Fic

[amberdowny.livejournal.com]

Hi all, I have another fic!  I'm proudest of this one out of all my M*A*S*H fics (because of the length), and it wasn't getting reviews on fanfiction.net, so here it is.

Title: One Morning in Maine

Rating: PG-13

 

A/N: I didn’t know how the pairings would turn out until I was on page 7. Nothing like going into it with no idea how it would turn out, hmm? Actually, my original idea was for a threesome fic…but I just couldn’t quite see Trapper with B.J. so that fell through.

B.J.

The phone is ringing. I sigh, and answer it, as I’m the only one home for the moment. “Hello?”

“B.J. Hunnicutt?”

The voice is familiar, but I can’t quite place it. “Yes, who’s this?”

“Beej, it’s Hawkeye Pierce.”

That stops me for a minute. The last time I saw him, he was…well, I hadn’t seen or heard from him since Korea.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

I clear my throat and reply, “Sorry. It’s just…god, it’s been awhile, Hawk.”

“Yeah, I know. Hey listen, I know this is really out of the blue, but I’m asking you to come and stay for a week. Please?”

He sounds unsure, though I don’t know whether it’s because he doesn’t know if he really wants to see me, or because he doesn’t know what my answer will be. It would be yes, but…“Uh, I’d really like to Hawk, but I can’t just leave…I have my family, my job…” Then I realize I may be able to go after all. “When did you want me to come?”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” he says, sounding disappointed.

“When did you want me to come?” I repeat.

“I was thinking in a couple weeks, not right away…”

“Well, as long as I have time to get time, I’ll come,” I say with a grin. “I’ll be there…say the 25th?” It was currently the 10th. I’d have plenty of time.

I could almost hear Hawkeye’s answering grin. “That sounds great. But you really don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Well, I’ll pay for the plane ticket if you want.”

I shrug, though he couldn’t see it. “I’d rather drive, actually.”

“It has to be at least a week of solid driving to get from Mill Valley to Crabapple Cove!” Hawkeye says, sounding shocked.

I shrug again, forgetting he couldn’t see me.

“You’re shrugging, aren’t you?” he asks, sounding resigned.

“Yup.”

“All right. Well, I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“It’s a date.”

He laughs a little, and then says, “Bye.”

“Bye,” I say in return, and then hang up the phone. I grin to myself. I’m actually eager to be there.

“I’m going to Maine,” I say aloud.

Trapper

I’d just seen my youngest daughter to bed when the phone rang. “Damn it, who’s calling at nine o’clock?” I mutter to myself. All of our friends know we have kids who go to bed, and don’t usually call after eight.

After a minute, I hear, “It’s for you!” so I walk down the hall and take the phone from my wife.

“Hello?”

“Trapper?” I frown. I know this voice…who is it?

“Yeah.”

“Trap, it’s Hawkeye Pierce.”

My jaw drops. Hawkeye is calling? I never got a letter from him after I left Korea, nor sent one to him, I never really even said goodbye when I left. I hated doing it, but what else could I do? I had told Radar to give him a kiss from me, but I doubt if he even did it.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, it’s just…wow. God, Hawk, I haven’t head from you since…when was it? ‘51, ‘52?”

There’s a wry note in his voice when he replies, “I haven’t heard from you either.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay, that’s not why I called. This is really out of nowhere, but I’m inviting you to come and visit on the 25th. Stay a week. Please?”

He’s right, it is out of nowhere, but I really want to see him, so I reply immediately, “Sure.”

“You don’t have to,” he says.

“I know. So, the 25th?”

“Yeah.”

“See you then.”

“See you.” He hangs up, without saying goodbye. I wonder if that was intentionally an echo of how I had left, or just coincidence. I hope it was coincidence, because I didn’t mean for it to happen that way…he was on R&R, and I stayed as long as I could.

But still. Maybe I could make amends on the 25th, which was still two weeks away.

Hawkeye

They’re both coming. That’s good, and I hadn’t expected it. I hope they’ll get along, although they’re so alike, they should. But that may be a reason why they won’t get along.

And me, I’m different than I was. Although, I suppose, people change. Anyway, we’re--

Oh shit.

Sometimes people don’t change. And if neither of them have…

That could be a real problem.

B.J.

The arrangements were made quickly, and I had left Mill Valley a week after Hawkeye called. Now it was five o’clock in the morning on the 25th, and my car decided it wanted to stop working in Massachusetts. I still had to get through New Hampshire and then into Maine, and then I had to find my way to Crabapple Cove.

I groaned, and tried to start the engine for what seemed like the hundredth time. It sputtered, but didn’t actually start. I had already looked under the hood, and was no closer to starting it up. “I could fix a flat tire, I could gas it up, I could probably even diagnose a leak somewhere, but it just has to do something I don’t know anything about,” I mutter to myself. Today has barely started, and it’s already bad.

To make things even worse, at least twenty cars have gone by, and aside from some curious looks, no one has stopped and offered to help, and I don’t really want to walk who knows how many miles to a gas station or someone’s house in the rain.

“I hate you,” I say, dropping my head to the steering wheel. I don’t know if I’m talking to the car, or to Hawkeye, or to God, but whoever it is thoroughly deserves my hatred.

I decide to wait another half an hour, and if no one has stopped, rain or not, I’m going to get out and walk.

At five forty, I’m just about to get out and walk, despite the rain, when another car pulls over behind mine. A man gets out and walks over towards me. His curls are his most distinguishing feature, I notice idly.

I get out of the car to meet him. “Hey, need some help?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” I respond. The man grins at me, and I immediately like him, although it could just be because he’s offered to help me.

Trapper

On my way up to Maine (at five-thirty in the morning, may I add) I see a car broken down on the side of the road. Noticing that it’s all the way from California, I pull over and go over and offer to help.

The man inside the car gets out as I approach, nice of him to get wet too, and responds gratefully to my offer for help.

“So, what’s wrong with the car?” I ask him.

“I don’t know, that’s the problem. I don’t suppose you know any mechanics nearby?”

I shake my head. “No, sorry. I’m not too familiar with this area myself, I’m from Boston.”

“Oh.” He sounds disappointed.

“But hey, I’ll give you a lift to wherever you’re going, if it’s on the way,” I say, smiling at him. “And if it’s not, I’ll still take you somewhere.”

He laughs. “Well, I’m going to Maine, so I doubt it’s on the way.”

I laugh too. “What a coincidence, so am I! You probably don’t want to leave your car here for however long you’re gonna be there, though.”

“No, not really. But I could call a mechanic, or something I guess, if you’ll take me to a gas station or something.”

“Nothing’s gonna be open this early,” I warn him. “Probably not until eight or nine. How about this: I’ll take you to a gas station, you can look up a mechanic, and then I’ll take you closer to where you’re going. Then you can call the mechanic later, and pick up the car on your way home.”

He seems unsure. “Well…I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

I wave him off. “It’s not a problem; like I said, I’m going to Maine anyway.”

“Well…if you’re sure,” he says, and reaches into his car for his suitcase.

I grin. “You can just put that in the back with mine.”

He does, as I get back into my car, and then gets into the passenger seat.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, where are you going in Maine?” he asks me as we pull back onto the road.

I shrug. “I’m going to see an old Army buddy in a town called Crabapple Cove.” I don’t hear a response from my passenger (what’s his name? I forgot to ask!) so I look over at him to find him staring at me, mouth open.

“Is that abnormal?” I ask, bemused.

“You don’t happen to be “Trapper” John McIntyre, do you?” he asks.

Now it’s my turn to stare incredulously, though I quickly return my eyes to the road. “Uh, yeah…do I know you?”

“No, but I was your replacement at the 4077th MASH back in Korea,” he says, sounding shocked. “B.J. Hunnicutt.”

“Well, you already know me, apparently,” I reply. “Can I venture a guess and say you’re going to see Hawkeye too?”

“Yes, and you’d be right,” he says. “Wow, this is so weird. I never thought I’d meet you.”

I’m intrigued. Had Hawkeye told him about me?

“Did Hawkeye tell you about me?”

He laughs, shortly. “You were the subject of the first thing I ever heard him say.”

“Yeah? What’d he say?”

“I believe it was along the lines of ‘I can’t believe it, I missed Trapper by ten minutes!’ or something.”

My eyes widen. “Damn, only ten minutes? I can’t believe it! Damn, he was the best friend I ever had, and I didn’t even say goodbye.”

He looks over at me. “Why not?”

“He was on R&R in Tokyo, and we couldn’t reach him.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” B.J. says. “He ended up driving me back to camp…came by some soldiers, then the enemy started shelling. I hadn’t even seen the MASH unit yet, and I was dealing with injuries.” I see his cynical smile out of the corner of my eye. “And throwing up. I was barely out of residency, and I was seeing men with no front sides.”

I wince. “That’s a terrible introduction to Korea. I suppose it fit, though.”

“Yeah. Then later, I got an introduction to life in the Swamp. We arrived all of us drunk. Well, Radar wasn’t drunk, obviously,” he continues.

I grin. “I couldn’t imagine Radar drunk.”

He grins too. “Me neither. Frank wasn’t impressed when he saw us.”

“I wouldn’t think so.”

“Frank left, after awhile. Replaced by a man called Charles Winchester. His first day officially part of the unit, we left a snake in his bed. When we came into bed, it was in Hawkeye’s bed.”

I laugh. “He must’ve loved that!”

“I think he yelled and tossed it from hand to hand before throwing out the door,” B.J. says, laughing too.

I look over at him. “You know, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

He continues to laugh.

“Hey, what does the B.J. stand for?” I ask suddenly.

“Anything you’d like,” he replies.

Hawkeye

I look at the clock again, for the fifth time in an hour. It’s still pretty early--only about twelve thirty--but I can’t help but hope they’ll both arrive soon. At the same time, I hope they’ll never arrive, because if both of them still--well, I don’t really want to think about it.

Suddenly I hear a car pull into the drive. I look out of the window, but the house is too far from the drive to see clearly. I walk away from the window, pull on a jacket, and head outside to see who it is.

I’m shocked when I get outside and see not only Trapper but B.J. too getting out of the car, which has Massachusetts plates. They’re laughing like they’re old friends as they get their suitcases out of the backseat.

I just stand there for a minute, looking at them, waiting to see who’ll notice me first. It’s Trapper who finally looks toward the house and sees me.

“Hawkeye!” he calls. B.J. looks up too, and grins at me.

“Hey Hawk!”

I grin back, and walk over to them, hugging first B.J., then Trapper in welcome. I look at the car, and then ask, “So how’d you two end up coming here together?” I turn back toward the house, and they follow me.

Trapper laughs. “Funny story, really. I’m driving up here at five thirty this morning, and I see a car broken down on the side of the road, so I pull over and offer to help. Turns out it’s B.J., and he knows who I am.”

B.J. chuckles. “I think he was a little creeped out.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be if this random guy from California suddenly turns to you and asks ‘Are you “Trapper” John McIntyre’?” Trapper retorts.

“Yes, since I’m not,” I say. “I don’t even look like you.”

“I’ll say. My hair’s not gray yet.”

I bring a hand to my head self-consciously. It had started graying in Korea, and now it was almost pure silver.

B.J. elbows me. “It’s not that bad, Hawk. Don’t pay any attention to him.”

I flash B.J. a grateful smile. He’d had to endure a few rants about my hair in Korea.

“Anyway,” Trapper goes on, clearing his throat, “we find out we’re both coming to see you, so we decided to drive up the rest of the way together.”

"I called a mechanic about an hour ago," B.J. adds.

“Saves me having to make introductions, I guess,” I say, shrugging. “Oh, here we are. Welcome to my humble abode.” I open the door, and usher the both of them in. “I’ll give you the grand tour. Kitchen--” I lead them into the living room. “--living room. Down the hall there’s the bathroom, my bed--oh, damn!”

“What’s wrong?” B.J. asks, while at the same time Trapper says “Hawk?” worriedly.

“Nothing, except--well, for all my careful planning, I only have the one bedroom and one couch. And, for a week at least, there are three people in this house.” I can’t believe I didn’t think of that when I invited the two of them up here!

“Oh, well, there’s no problem there,” Trapper says. “You keep your bed, and B.J. and I will take turns on the couch. The other one can sleep on the floor in here.”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t let you--”

“You can, and you will,” B.J. says firmly.

I sigh. “Well, if I’m making one of you sleep on a floor, at least sleep on my bedroom floor. It has a carpet, while in here it’s just wood.”

“Okay, glad that’s settled,” Trapper says.

“Hey, Hawk,” B.J. says suddenly, “I thought you lived with your Dad?”

Trapper frowns. “Yeah, that’s right.”

I look away from them. “He, uh, died, a couple of years ago,” I say quietly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” B.J. says softly.

“Me too,” Trapper adds.

I clear my throat. “Hey, are you two hungry? I can make you some lunch…soup and sandwiches?”

“Sounds great,” Trapper says. “Need some help?”

“It’s only soup and sandwiches,” I say, amused. “Do you think I’m that incapable?”

B.J. grins. “I’m sure you’ve burned soup at least once in your life.”

“I have not!” I protest. “I have never burned a liquid.”

“Created some liquid that burned all the way down, though,” Trapper muttered.

I throw him a mock sharp glance. “Remember, you helped to create that liquid,” I admonish.

“And I helped to carry on its brilliance,” B.J. puts in.

“So you did, so you did,” I say, acknowledging him with a nod. “Now, let’s go and create lunch, which hopefully will not burn anything.”

B.J.

Hawkeye and Trapper and I all sit around Hawkeye’s kitchen table eating soup and sandwiches, suddenly not talking. And the silence is awkward, which doesn’t make any sense to me, since Trapper and I had been getting along great, and Hawkeye of course liked both of us.

Then we all speak at the same time.

“Well--” Hawkeye begins.

“This is--” Trapper starts.

“We’re--” I launch.

We look at each other for a minute, and then start to laugh.

“I can only assume we were all going to comment on the awkwardness of the silence?” Hawkeye asks.

“Guilty,” Trapper replies.

“As charged,” I add.

Then the silence settles in again.

“Wonderful,” Hawkeye says sarcastically. “I’m going to the bathroom--maybe you two will get along better without me.” He leaves the room and after a few seconds, we can hear the bathroom door close.

Trapper sighs. “This is going well.”

I sigh as well. “Very well. Look, we have to make this work, all right? Korea…well, a lot happened in Korea after you left.”

“Fortunately, I wasn’t around to see it,” he replies.

“Maybe you should have been. You could’ve handled things better. I’m married, you know. I have a little girl, too.” If I hadn’t been married, I don’t say, I could have given Hawkeye more.

“So am I, and I have two,” Trapper retorts. “And I don’t see what being married has to do with anything, except maybe as a bit of a guilt complex for sleeping with the nurses.”

And I had always assumed that Trapper and Hawk had been involved as Hawk and I had been. Evidently not. I laugh though, and ask, “Ah, so that was something you and Hawkeye did together?”

“Never at the same time with the same nurse,” Trapper says solemnly, though I see there’s a twinkle in his brown eyes.

Hawkeye comes back in then, in time to hear Trapper’s last remark, and raises his eyebrows. “Talking about me?”

“Only in the most rotten of ways,” I assure him.

“I knew it,” he grins. “Hey, let me take those dishes.” He takes our empty dishes and puts them into the sink.

Trapper stands up and arches his back. “God B.J., my back is stiff just from driving from Massachusetts, yours must be murder.”

I shrug. “It’s not…that bad.” I stand as well, mostly because I feel awkward sitting while they’re both standing.

Hawkeye motions towards the living room. “Then let’s go into the living room. There at least you can sit on a soft couch, as opposed to a hard chair.”

Trapper and I follow Hawkeye into the living room, and then we sit on the couch, with me in the middle of the other two. “Trapper, you can have the couch tonight,” I say.

“You sure?” he asks. “You’re probably sore.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m all right. The floor is fine.” I don’t tell him my ulterior motive--I want to talk to Hawkeye alone, the sooner the better, about what we had in Korea, and sleeping on his bedroom floor seems the perfect chance to do so.

“Well…thanks.”

“Hey Beej, how’s Peg? And Erin?” Hawkeye asks me suddenly.

I grin. “Oh, they’re great.”

Trapper

As B.J. rambles on to Hawk about his wife and kid, I seethe. First, Hawkeye hugged B.J. before he hugged me. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or anything, but he hasn’t seen me since 1952. And, well, okay, I didn’t say a proper good-bye, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to. Well, maybe that isn’t the problem. But to continue my seething, now Hawkeye’s sitting on the end of the couch, with B.J. next to him, leaving me to be next to B.J. also and not him, he’s talking only to B.J. about something that only he and B.J. care about, and to top it all off, B.J. has been so gracious as to let me have the couch tonight, when I wanted to talk to Hawkeye tonight, alone, and sleeping in his bedroom was the perfect excuse.

I abruptly stop in my thoughts as I realize that I am jealous. Hawkeye and I had something…well, something, and I have the sinking feeling that he and B.J. had the same kind of something. It’s only natural for me to be jealous…but I think maybe I don’t have the right. First of all, we should never have had anything to start with, since I am married (but when had that ever stopped me?) and we’re both men.

“And how about you, Trap? How’s your family doing?” Hawkeye suddenly asks me.

“Oh, uh, they’re fine. I think they’re happy that I’m gone for a week, so it’ll be just the girls.”

Hawkeye smiles, but there’s something…I can’t quite figure out what it is. “Shame I never married,” he comments. “But according to one Carlye Walton, nee Breslin, I’m too involved in my work for marriage.”

“Carlye?” I question.

“She was just about the only girl I ever really cared about,” Hawkeye replies. “We were dating while I was in med school--we lived together.”

“She worked at the 4077th for awhile as a nurse,” B.J. supplied. “But she got transferred.”

Hawkeye smiled ruefully. “Partially my fault. Mostly my fault,” he amended.

I can’t help but think about Hawkeye’s remark. She was the only person I ever really cared about. So what had I been to him then? Worth no more than all the nurses he had in the supply tent? Oh, but wait, he had said girl, not person. Aha.

“Oh,” I say aloud. “Um…how’ve you been?”

Hawkeye sighs. “Fine. But it’s a really broad question, Trap.”

“Sorry.”

He waves me off.

“Hey,” B.J. breaks in suddenly, “did either of you know that…”

Hawkeye

Fortunately, things are going much better than I thought they would, after the sleeping arrangements were worked out. Trapper and B.J. have been here since noon, and since we’ve just finished with dinner, I think the rest of the week will be okay.

I gather up the dishes as I muse to myself and begin to run water into the sink to do them up.

“Here, let me help you with the dishes,” B.J. says, rising from the table and coming over.

“Yeah, me too,” Trapper says, joining us at the sink.

“I don’t think both of you need to--” I begin to say, but B.J. cuts me off.

“We’re using the dishes too, aren’t we? I’ll wash, Trapper can dry, and you can put them away.”

Trapper nods. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

I sigh. “Okay, fine.”

B.J. grins. “Good.” He positions himself in front of the sink, picks up a dishrag, and begins to wash a coffee mug. Trapper, after I point to the drawer where they’re kept, gets a towel and stands next to B.J., waiting for dishes to dry.

Trapper hands me the newly dry mug, and I put it away. When I get back to him, there’s another mug sitting on the counter, waiting to be put away. And so it goes on, the two of them washing and drying quickly, faster than I can keep up with. They seem to be having a race, seeing who can do his task the fastest. I smile to myself as I put away a stack of plates. The sound of shattering glass makes me whirl around to look at them. They’re both looking at the divider between the two basins of the sink. I can only assume that’s where the glass hit, and there are now shards of glass in both sides.

“Sorry,” B.J. murmurs.

“Sorry,” Trapper echoes.

“It’s okay, just don’t have any more races,” I say with a smile. “And be careful of the glass.”

They look at one another sheepishly, and then return to what they’d been doing, carefully because of the glass. I can keep up with them now.

When the dishes were finished, and all glass cleaned up, we went back into the living room.

“So, have you heard from anyone lately?” B.J. asks me.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Oh. Me neither.” B.J. yawns. “Man, I’m beat.”

Trapper yawns too.

“We can go to bed,” I offer. It’s only about eight, but the two of them are tired, and I don’t want to disturb either of them by being awake.

Trapper grins. “You can go to bed. B.J. and I can go to floor and couch.”

I shift guiltily. “I’m sorry I didn’t plan better.”

“Don’t worry about it,” B.J. says. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor, and neither does Trapper.”

“Right,” Trapper agrees. I glance at him. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet since he got here, mostly just agreeing with B.J. Then, I haven’t seen him for years; maybe he’s become this quiet.

“Well, let’s go Beej, and leave Trapper to his couch,” I say.

“After you,” B.J. replies.

B.J.

After we’ve all gotten ready for bed, Trapper returns to the living room with blankets and pillows, and Hawkeye and I go into his bedroom, me similarly laden with blankets and pillows. Hawkeye glances around as we enter, then says to me, “I think right next to my bed gives you the most room.”

I put the blankets on the floor where he’s indicated, then begin to spread them out. I look around the room as I do so. It’s furnished simply, like the rest of the house, with a bed, a nightstand, and a bureau. I frown slightly as I realize that this room--this house--doesn’t really say “Hawkeye” to me. Has he really changed so much? I realize that a lot has happened, but still.

“Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping on the floor?” Hawkeye asks me suddenly.

“It’s fine, Hawk,” I reply, sitting on the floor and pulling the blankets over my legs.

He smiles a little, and then switches off the lamp. He gets into his bed, leaning over and looking at me. “So, how do you feel about Trapper?”

“I like him,” I reply.

“Good. I was afraid you’d hate each other or something, since--” Hawkeye stops abruptly.

I look at him in the dark. “Since what?” I ask.

“Since you’re alike,” he says quickly. I don’t believe that’s what he was going to say, but I let it go. I have bigger things on my mind, and I don’t exactly know how to say them.

“Hawk,” I begin. “I think we should talk about…us and what we…”

Hawkeye looks wary, but agrees. “I guess you’re right.”

I’m relieved at that. “Good. Well, um, Hawkeye…I don’t know how to say this.”

“How about you start with whether or not you regret it?” Hawkeye suggested.

“No, I don’t regret it. It was…it was a horrible place, and you helped make it less so. What we had was unconventional, but it was wonderful too. But we never talked about what would happen when we went home, and we should have. I…I love Peg, Hawkeye, and even in Korea, I sometimes hated that I was being unfaithful. I loved you too--I still do, and always will--but I don’t have the same sort of feelings for you now.” I finish, waiting for Hawkeye to respond.

“Because you don’t need to. You’re home again, and not dealing with the--the horror that we dealt with over there,” Hawkeye says.

“Well…”

He smiles, a little cynically. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?” His smile morphs into one that’s more sincere. “But I understand. I always figured you’d go back to Peg. But I’m glad we could talk about it.” He reaches down and takes my hand for a minute, squeezing gently.

“Me too,” I reply. “Hey, Hawk? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You and Trapper…were you…?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

“I thought so.”

He smiled wistfully. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

I shrug. “Just a little. Have you talked to him at all? About that, I mean?”

“B.J., the first time I’ve spoken to Trapper since he left Korea was the tenth,” Hawkeye tells me. “And I obviously haven’t talked to him today.”

“Oh.” I yawn.

“Go to sleep,” Hawkeye orders.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, mother.”

He grins. “’Night, Beej.”

“’Night, Hawk.” I drift off to sleep.

I’m disoriented when I wake up, not sure where I am. Then I remember: I’m on Hawkeye’s bedroom floor in Maine. My internal clock is telling me it’s time to get up for work, but since I’ve gone through three time zones in the past week, my internal clock is off. I sit up and peer at Hawkeye’s alarm clock. It tells me that it’s eight o’clock, and a glance at Hawkeye’s bed tells me that he’s already awake and gone. I get dressed, and then wander quietly down the hall to the bathroom. As I brush my teeth, I listen to see if Trapper’s awake, but I can’t hear anything over the running water. I head out of the bathroom and into the living room. I immediately see Trapper sprawled on the couch, snoring softly, so I go quietly into the kitchen, where Hawkeye is sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

He glances up when he hears me and smiles. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

“Coffee?”

“Please,” I say gratefully. “When did you get up?”

“About an hour ago,” Hawkeye replies, pouring me a cup of coffee. I take a sip, and then make a face.

“Do you have any sugar?” I ask. “Wow, this is strong coffee.”

Hawkeye stands and brings me sugar. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” I answer, spooning sugar into my cup.

Hawkeye looks like he’s about to say something, but before he does, Trapper appears in the doorway, bleary eyed and his curls unruly. “Do I smell coffee?”

Hawkeye grins. “Want a cup?”

“You bet,” Trapper replies.

“Use lots of sugar,” I warn him.

Trapper laughs.

Trapper

Something seems to have changed between Hawkeye and B.J. overnight, I notice sometime around midday. They seem more comfortable with each other, more like Hawk and I had been in Korea. I hope that they haven’t restarted or initiated any relationship other than one of friendship, because I…. I stop my thoughts. Tonight, I just want to talk to Hawkeye, to find out where he stands. I don’t know what I want beyond that.

I’m suddenly splashed with warm water. We’re doing the dishes again, because of the large breakfast Hawkeye cooked, refusing to let either of us help. I’m washing this time, B.J. is drying, and Hawkeye is putting away. Hawkeye had just reached around B.J. and flicked water at me.

“Earth to Trapper!” he says. “We’re waiting for dishes.” I look at him, and he’s grinning.

I flick water back at him, then say, “Don’t rush me.” I wash maple syrup off of a plate, and then hand it to B.J.. B.J. dries it, and then hands it to Hawkeye. I continue to wash things.

“Well then, don’t daydream,” Hawkeye retorts.

I stick my tongue out at him.

“Very mature,” B.J. comments with a smile.

I shrug. “I am very mature.”

“Liar!” Hawkeye declares.

I grin ruefully. “You’re right.”

The day passes with less hesitating, less awkwardness between the three of us. I’m instinctively not as jealous of B.J. anymore, but I don’t know why. I suppose something must have happened last night between Hawkeye and B.J., but I don’t know what. I try not to let it bother me, though.

“‘My blue heaven,’” Hawkeye sings that night as he prepares dinner. He is again adamant about B.J. and me not helping, although he has lain out ingredients on the table and has us hand them to him as he moves through the kitchen. I play with a mushroom as I watch Hawkeye chop and stir things.

B.J. rolls his eyes. “Do you have to sing?” he asks Hawkeye.

“Yes,” Hawkeye replies. “Trap, will you toss me an onion?”

I pick up an onion and throw it to him. He catches it, then begins chopping it up. Even from halfway across the room, my eyes water. I blink, and then join in as Hawkeye starts singing again.

B.J. groans. “Now both of you have to do it?”

“Yes,” we say in unison. Hawkeye returns to cooking, and I return to fiddling with a mushroom. After a few minutes, Hawkeye turns around. “Trapper, stop molesting my mushrooms and give me a few,” he teases. I throw one at him, before standing and civilly handing some to him.

“What are you making, anyway?” B.J. asks from the table. I’m peering at the stove. So far, Hawkeye has a pot of water boiling, tomato sauce simmering, and onions and mushrooms sautéing.

“Looks like spaghetti,” I reply.

Hawkeye nods. “It is indeed. Now shoo.”

I go into the living room, rummage through my suitcase and pull out a deck of cards, then return to the kitchen. “Cards?” I ask B.J.

“Sure,” he replies. “What do you want to play?”

“Rummy,” Hawkeye says over his shoulder as he stirs the onions and mushrooms.

I look at B.J.. “Sounds good to me,” I say, shrugging.

“Why not?”

“Gin rummy or regular?” I ask.

“Regular,” B.J. answers. So I shuffle and deal, with the jack of diamonds in the discard pile, and we settle down to play. On B.J.’s second turn, he lays down a run of four, five and six of clubs. I grumble, since I’d just discarded the five, and draw. Five of diamonds, not terrible useful, but I keep it anyway, since I have the seven.

A few turns later, B.J. discards the eight of diamonds. I pick it up and lay down a run of my own, seven, eight, nine. Now B.J. grumbles and draws.

After several turns, I lay down another run, of the ace, two and three of hearts. “Lucky,” B.J. mutters. He only has his first run plus a ten of diamonds he played off of me. On his next turn, B.J. takes everything in the discard pile--apparently he can do something with the jack--and ends up laying down three more straights. He discards the jack of hearts.

I mutter to myself, and then draw.

Ten minutes later the game is over. B.J. beats me by ninety-five points.

I sulk for a few minutes, but then Hawkeye calls out, “Dinner’s ready!” and brings three plates of spaghetti and three forks over to the table. Before B.J. or I can rise to help him, he manages to bring three full glasses to the table too.

“Wow, this looks great,” B.J. says enthusiastically.

“And it smells great,” I add, sniffing appreciatively.

Hawkeye grins. “I try.” He swirls spaghetti onto his fork and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s a little garlicky,” he comments.

I take a bite too, then swallow and grin. “No, it’s delicious,” I say, taking another bite. B.J., who had taken a bite at the same time I did, nods emphatically.

We don’t talk after that, all three of us busy eating.

After, we do the dishes for the second time that day. I’m washing again, but I don’t mind. I’m going quickly this time, and the both rag on me about it, since I had gone so slowly this morning.

When we’re done, we all sit around the kitchen table playing cards. At about ten o’clock, B.J. stands up. “I fold,” he says. “Hawkeye, you win the imaginary pot. I’m going to bed.”

“Couch,” I correct.

“Same thing,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Is it comfortable?”

“No, it’s lumpy,” I say sarcastically. “No, really, it’s fine. How’s the floor?”

He shrugs. “It’s a floor.”

We all go into the living room, where B.J. sits on the couch and pulls off his socks. “Good night.”

“’Night,” I reply.

Hawkeye raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to brush your teeth?”

“Too tired,” B.J. mumbles, lying down.

“’Night then. Come on Trapper.” He leads me into his bedroom, and I see from the nest of blankets where I’m supposed to sleep. I pull off my pants and get on the floor, covering my legs with the blankets.

Hawkeye switches off the lamp, then similarly undresses and gets into his bed.

There’s silence for a moment, then I say, “Hawkeye?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, I’m sorry, about the way I left,” I say hesitantly. “And not saying goodbye.”

Hawkeye sighs. “It wasn’t your fault. I got back just a couple hours after you left. I drove like a bat out of hell to catch you. You left ten minutes before I got there.”

“Yeah, I know, B.J. told me. Did Radar kiss you?”

I can hear Hawkeye’s grin. “Yeah, but he was unwilling.”

I laugh. “If he’d known how I’d have kissed you, he wouldn’t have done it."

Hawkeye is silent. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

“Hawk?” I ask timidly.

“I think we should talk about that, about what we had,” he replies. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” I say, surprised. “I don’t. It was…was…indescribable. Why, do you?”

“No.”

I lick my lips nervously. “That’s good, because I…I still have…feelings for you.”

“What about your wife?”

I sigh. “I’ve never really been faithful to her. I do love her, but there are other people I’ve loved. Including you.”

Hawkeye seems flabbergasted. “You loved me?”

Noting that he’d used the past tense, I say, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“What about B.J.?” I ask.

Hawkeye sighs now. “We had something, once. But he’s more faithful to his wife than you are to yours.”

I ask hesitantly “Can we…have something…again?”

“I…I don’t know. You go back to Massachusetts in a week,” Hawkeye replies.

“I could stay,” I suggest.

“We both know that you can’t. But…a week is a while. And I guess we could.”

It’s my turn to be flabbergasted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Come up here.”

I stand, and join Hawkeye in the bed. Slowly, he leans towards me and captures my lips in a kiss. I moan, and reach around to the back of his head, pulling him in deeper. His own hand reaches around and tangles in my hair. When the kiss is over, we’re both breathless.

“I forgot,” Hawkeye says in wonder.

“Forgot what?” I ask.

“How much I need you,” he replies.

This time it’s me who initiates the kiss, but when it’s happening it doesn’t matter. We spend the next hour relearning each other’s faces and mouths, using our lips and our hands. He remembers that place on the side of my neck that leaves me squirming, and I remember that sucking on the place where you can feel his pulse makes it quicken. I’m surprised, but not too surprised.

After a particularly deep kiss, Hawkeye pulls away. “We can’t do more than this,” he says softly. “Not with B.J. in the next room.”

I grin. “Well then, I’ll just have to come back soon, without B.J.”

“Yeah,” Hawkeye replies, and kisses me again. I sigh, and wrap my arms around him. He puts his around me too, and we fall asleep like that.

Hawkeye

When I wake, I feel safe and warm. That wasn’t unusual, but it wasn’t entirely normal either. Then I realize that Trapper is in bed with me, and I smile. I gently kiss Trapper’s forehead, then check the clock. It’s nine o’clock.

I slip out of bed, and Trapper wakes up as well. He sits up. “Mmm. Tell me last night wasn’t a dream.”

“It was real,” I assure him. “Now come on, get up. It’s late.”

He glances at the clock and mutters, “No, it’s early,” but gets out of bed. He comes over to me and pulls me into a kiss. I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation. It’s been too many years since we’ve done this. I almost forgot how wonderful it was. I finally break the kiss and push Trapper towards the door.

When we get into the living room, we find B.J. sitting on the couch. He glances up as we enter, then grins. “Finally! I’ve been up for an hour.”

“Sorry,” I apologize. Trapper heads into the kitchen.

“Hawk, where do you keep your coffee?” he calls to me.

I go into the kitchen too. “I’ll get it,” I say, and proceed to make coffee.

When it’s done, the three of us sit around the table drinking it. “B.J., you can have the couch for the rest of the week,” Trapper says suddenly.

B.J. sends me a knowing grin and replies, “Oh, okay. Thanks. Maybe I should just go home early.”

“No need,” Trapper shoots back.

“Well, be quiet then,” B.J. says.

“We will,” Trapper responds. I send him a murderous look.

B.J. smiles warmly at both of us. “Seriously though, I’m happy for you,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say sincerely.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Trapper asks, suddenly worried.

B.J. shakes his head. “Of course not.”

Trapper smiles.

As we sit and drink our coffee in a comfortable silence, I think of what’s happened over the past two days. I’ve seen my two best friends again, worked things out with both of them, and now I have a relationship with Trapper again. It’ll be hard, but we’ll make it work somehow.

I grin, and Trapper asks, “What are you so happy about?”

I turn to face him, then kiss him on the cheek. “Everything,” I say, because for the moment at least, it’s true.

Fin

Begun: December 23, 2005, 8:13 pm

Finished: January 8, 2006, 12:21 am