mash_slash | Home Away From Home, BJ/Hawkeye (Reply)

Title: Home Away From Home
Author:

dancinguniverse
Rating: PG
Pairing: Hawkeye/BJ if you squint
Summary: post- the episode where Hawkeye crashes his Jeep and has to stay the night with the Korean family.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were.

Tired as Hawkeye was, it was no struggle to stay awake on the ride back to camp. An Army Jeep wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world in which to fall asleep, and Radar’s voice rose and fell in his ears, detailing everything that had happened in the whole two days that he had been gone.

Still, he was dozing off enough to hardly realize how close they were to camp until Radar was actually pulling in, and BJ was running out of the OR, still in his scrubs, to lean over Hawkeye, patting him down with anxious hands and feeling for his pulse.

"There you go, sir, home sweet home," Radar said, and Hawkeye looked over at him and grimaced.

"I’m not sure how homey or sweet, but here I am again."

"He rolled his Jeep," Radar announced.

"You okay?" BJ asked Hawkeye.

"I’m fine," he replied, though he was more relieved than he’d thought he’d be to be back at the 4077 again. "Concussed, but fine."

"You didn’t take care of that head wound?" BJ asked with concern, looking him over critically.

Hawkeye pushed himself out of the Jeep, grateful for the arm BJ slipped under his shoulders. "And clean it with what? Their water? ‘Oh, yes, sir, madam, I’ll take some concentrated death to clean this gash on my head.’ I wouldn’t have let them drink it if I thought there was anything better."

Frank stalked out of the tent, stopping when he caught sight of Hawkeye. "Oh, you’re back. Took your sweet time, too. We had wounded here, you know."

Hawkeye winced. Frank’s whine sounded only the worse for the concussion. "Sorry my Jeep flipping off the road prevented me from taking some of your work load, Frank."

"Yeah, it’s not his fault. He’s got blood on his head and everything," Radar defended.

"Oh, what would you know about blood?" Frank snapped. "You’re not a doctor."

Radar sighed and pulled the Jeep away to be parked.

BJ looked at Hawkeye, and then over at Frank. "Being a doctor hasn’t seemed to teach you much about what to do with blood."

Frank drew himself up, looking as intimidating as possible, which wasn’t very. "I don’t have to take this. Next time, I want to be the one who gets out of surgery. I do more work around here than anyone else."

"Cause more work, certainly," Hawkeye interjected.

BJ grinned, and Frank sniffed. "See if I don’t write you up for dereliction of duty. Just try it again." He stormed off, directly into the path of the Jeep, which Radar had turned around.

"Watch it!" he shrieked, and there was a muttered, "Sorry," as Radar pulled away.

Hawkeye rolled his eyes, turning his head to BJ. "And I was planning on crashing a Jeep again next week. Maybe even breaking a limb. What’ll I do now?"

"You could try stepping on a land mine."

"Hey! That always works."

"Of course, sometimes you die."

"It’s a small price to pay for a day out of surgery."

BJ chuckled and continued with Hawkeye into the tent.

Hawkeye stopped when he entered, recognizing the signs of surgery being cleaned up. "Was it bad?"

"Is it ever good?" BJ asked him.

"Sorry I missed the fun. I’d have been here, but I have this concussion, you know." Hawkeye settled himself down on a bench as BJ turned to hunt for supplies.

"Uh huh," BJ hummed in his best doctor voice, shining a light into Hawkeye’s eyes. "Have you blacked out?"

"Not in the past twenty-four hours, anyway. Came pretty close in that big thunderstorm, but luckily I have a great electrical company."

"Nauseous?"

"Only while talking to Frank back there."

"Right. Well in my professional, medical opinion," BJ said seriously, cleaning the wound on Hawkeye’s temple, "You have a concussion."

"It’s a good thing I have you around to tell me these things."

"And I recommend you rest for a while."

"You are so smart. Hopefully, our babies will inherit your brains."

"And your good looks," BJ countered. He applied a bandage to the cut, too small to need stitches, and stepped back. "Everything else all right?"

"I wanna go home."

"No dice. You think I want to operate with Frank the rest of the war?"

"Then we send Frank home. Or," he suggested off BJ’s incredulous look, "We send Frank to Tibet and send all the boys home."

"Gosh, now why hasn’t anyone else thought of that?"

"I keep writing Truman, but I don’t think he’s reading my letters."

BJ held out a hand to help Hawkeye up. "Need a hand back to the Swamp?"

"Fine, but don’t expect a kiss at the door. I always wait until the second date."

"That dinner we had wasn’t a date?"

"Are you kidding?" Hawkeye leaned on BJ as they headed out the door. "I got that from the Mess. I was trying to kill you to pay you back for stealing my shirt."

"No, that was my shirt to begin with. I remember, because it was green."

"No, it was mine. It matched my pants and my jacket."

"It matched my underwear."

"Very nicely, too, I might add," Hawkeye grinned.

BJ dropped Hawkeye gently onto his cot, making sure he was settled, and then turned to get out of his scrubs and take a shower.

He paused at the door, watching as Hawkeye rolled over to his side, frowning and rubbing his head as his eyes closed tiredly.

"Hawk?"

"Yeah?"

"I’m glad you’re back safe."

Hawkeye didn’t reply, but he was smiling into his pillow when BJ walked out the door.

~Fin~