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mash_slash2007-05-22 09:05 pm
mijmeraar.livejournal.com) wrote in mash_slash2007-05-22 09:05 pm
Entry tags:
[mijmeraar] two fics, pg-pg13
these are for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nutmeg4077, I hope they make you smile ♥
Title: the cold shoulder.
Pairing: hawkeye/bj
Rating: 15+
Prompt: winter.
It’s below frozen outside and no better in the tent, so Hawkeye bombards BJ’s cot, grapples for warm flesh, warm anything. He’s all clawing fingers and welcome friction; up and down and through the curls of hair on BJ’s chest. Perched on elbows, BJ thrusts up and round; a controlled groan that mostly just controls him. Hawkeye takes it like all things, full throttle, hands at the waistband and pedal to the floor. He lowers three layers and makes for a handful of. Of.
“You’re not serious.”
“My blood flow disagrees.”
Hawkeye moves back onto his knees and pulls that face, that you’re-beneath-me face. “What is that?”
BJ looks at his crotch. It glares back. “Oh. Those.”
“They’re bright orange, they’re hard to miss.”
BJ looks miffed. “I told you, it’s my swimsuit. They came by special delivery.”
“By ‘special’ do you mean fashionably challenged?”
“I … what?”
“Did the designer have an orang-utan upchuck on them?
BJ’s happy face falters. “You don’t like them.”
“I don’t like them? Are you kidding? I hate them. Send them back, get a refund … no, no, pay to have them taken to Hawaii and thrown in the volcanoes. They’re a blight on the human race.”
“They’re stylish.”
“You wear pink.”
“Better pink then a fink”
“Clever. Did the hypnotic swim shorts tell you to say that?”
“I figured if I looked warm, I could trick my body into feeling it.”
Hawkeye dismounts, an unamused grin, arousal waning. “You need all the tricks you can get, Fodo, I’m not going anywhere near that thing.”
With Hawkeye on his own cot, BJ does the smart thing, and takes them off; sure to stay under the covers so the cool wind can’t demote his Privates. With a cackle, Hawkeye grabs them off the floor, uses them to stoke the fire, the last flammable thing of winter.
“You son of a - ”
“That’s nothing. Your shorts will burn for a few minutes. I can last all night.”
Title: and here's to us
Pairing: implied bj/hawkeye
Prompt: spirit
Rating: 13+
Hawkeye is using Colonel Potter as a shield while BJ tries to hit him with a broom he stole from Igor; the same broom they use to sweep the Mess Tent floor. He thinks it’s only fitting that it’s used on this rat, the same as it is used on the real rats, to shoo them from the food. The Colonel is yelling at Radar on what plan of action they should take, Radar yelling the same thing simultaneously. It’s futile, the surgeons are louder.
“Give me back my socks you dirty thief!” BJ cries, his hair all mussed and in his face.
“They’re my socks, Mr. FootJoy!”
“They’re two sizes too big for you; you look like an oversized Elf!”
“Just because I’m comfortable with my sexuality doesn’t mean you can call me a fairy!”
“I said ELF! ELF!”
“Help! Help!”
“Pierce! Hunnicutt! My office isn’t hunting ground! Vamoose!”
“He started it!” BJ takes another swipe with his broom, narrowly missing Mrs. Potter, perched up on the desk. That seems to stoke a fire under Sherman’s seat and he flies out of his chair with an almighty,
“OUT! Skedaddle! Before I have your behinds in slings!”
Hawkeye hovers until BJ’s out of sight, slaps the Colonel on the shoulder with a grin. “Thanks, Colonel, I’ll look into having BJ medicated.”
“SCRAM!”
With long strides and a bounce in his step, Hawkeye makes his way back to the Swamp, a brisk “hello, hello” to the MASH staff that he passes. With the knowledge that Charles is on duty, he swings the door open and sings out,
“Oh Mr. Hunnicutt, it’s time for your medication,” yielding a bottle of whiskey from his coat pocket. He slumps down next to BJ, who is waiting with two glasses; and they toast to their brilliance, glasses meeting, just like their knees.
nutmeg4077, I hope they make you smile ♥Title: the cold shoulder.
Pairing: hawkeye/bj
Rating: 15+
Prompt: winter.
It’s below frozen outside and no better in the tent, so Hawkeye bombards BJ’s cot, grapples for warm flesh, warm anything. He’s all clawing fingers and welcome friction; up and down and through the curls of hair on BJ’s chest. Perched on elbows, BJ thrusts up and round; a controlled groan that mostly just controls him. Hawkeye takes it like all things, full throttle, hands at the waistband and pedal to the floor. He lowers three layers and makes for a handful of. Of.
“You’re not serious.”
“My blood flow disagrees.”
Hawkeye moves back onto his knees and pulls that face, that you’re-beneath-me face. “What is that?”
BJ looks at his crotch. It glares back. “Oh. Those.”
“They’re bright orange, they’re hard to miss.”
BJ looks miffed. “I told you, it’s my swimsuit. They came by special delivery.”
“By ‘special’ do you mean fashionably challenged?”
“I … what?”
“Did the designer have an orang-utan upchuck on them?
BJ’s happy face falters. “You don’t like them.”
“I don’t like them? Are you kidding? I hate them. Send them back, get a refund … no, no, pay to have them taken to Hawaii and thrown in the volcanoes. They’re a blight on the human race.”
“They’re stylish.”
“You wear pink.”
“Better pink then a fink”
“Clever. Did the hypnotic swim shorts tell you to say that?”
“I figured if I looked warm, I could trick my body into feeling it.”
Hawkeye dismounts, an unamused grin, arousal waning. “You need all the tricks you can get, Fodo, I’m not going anywhere near that thing.”
With Hawkeye on his own cot, BJ does the smart thing, and takes them off; sure to stay under the covers so the cool wind can’t demote his Privates. With a cackle, Hawkeye grabs them off the floor, uses them to stoke the fire, the last flammable thing of winter.
“You son of a - ”
“That’s nothing. Your shorts will burn for a few minutes. I can last all night.”
Title: and here's to us
Pairing: implied bj/hawkeye
Prompt: spirit
Rating: 13+
Hawkeye is using Colonel Potter as a shield while BJ tries to hit him with a broom he stole from Igor; the same broom they use to sweep the Mess Tent floor. He thinks it’s only fitting that it’s used on this rat, the same as it is used on the real rats, to shoo them from the food. The Colonel is yelling at Radar on what plan of action they should take, Radar yelling the same thing simultaneously. It’s futile, the surgeons are louder.
“Give me back my socks you dirty thief!” BJ cries, his hair all mussed and in his face.
“They’re my socks, Mr. FootJoy!”
“They’re two sizes too big for you; you look like an oversized Elf!”
“Just because I’m comfortable with my sexuality doesn’t mean you can call me a fairy!”
“I said ELF! ELF!”
“Help! Help!”
“Pierce! Hunnicutt! My office isn’t hunting ground! Vamoose!”
“He started it!” BJ takes another swipe with his broom, narrowly missing Mrs. Potter, perched up on the desk. That seems to stoke a fire under Sherman’s seat and he flies out of his chair with an almighty,
“OUT! Skedaddle! Before I have your behinds in slings!”
Hawkeye hovers until BJ’s out of sight, slaps the Colonel on the shoulder with a grin. “Thanks, Colonel, I’ll look into having BJ medicated.”
“SCRAM!”
With long strides and a bounce in his step, Hawkeye makes his way back to the Swamp, a brisk “hello, hello” to the MASH staff that he passes. With the knowledge that Charles is on duty, he swings the door open and sings out,
“Oh Mr. Hunnicutt, it’s time for your medication,” yielding a bottle of whiskey from his coat pocket. He slumps down next to BJ, who is waiting with two glasses; and they toast to their brilliance, glasses meeting, just like their knees.