post-ep "The Yalu Brick Road" (hey, I needed *something* to get me started!)
It's awfully PWP, pretty much un-deep, absolutely not my usual style - I'm just in that kind of mood.
Here's for the July 4th Friday 5-min-challenge!
mash-slash.somebody *please* resurrect it before I die??? And it can also be
found at T'Len's & Lady Charena's place.
Disclaimer: none of it's mine, they belong to FOX, all eleven seasons (and don't I hate them for it) and I'm just
borrowing them for a little fun. No profits are made.
"Free?" Hawkeye's voice rises on the single syllable, that word he repeats just to have it confirmed. Maybe he hasn't
heard correctly. Inwardly, he congratulates himself on the amount of resentment he manages to put into three phonemes.
"Nothing's for free in this war, Beej, unless you have a penchant for the big D's. Dirt, destruction, depravity,
dejection, dehumanization, dysentery, dismemberment, decay and death. Followed by the obligatory dirges. We got plenty
of those. The D's are available in abundance to everyone with dog tags, no charge."
"Don't forget 'drunkenness', 'diarrhea' and 'delirium'", B.J. puts in, failing to maintain his pretense of enthusiasm at
the sight of the mountain of enamel-ware that just won't shrink.
Hawkeye protests. "I was getting to those."
The downside of being two of the only five healthy people left in the camp is having to deal with a multiple workload,
and while Charles is barely keeping up with the laundry, Margaret, the Father and they themselves wage a relentless
battle against the hordes of Salmonella the Hun, cousin of Salmonella the Hen.
Or rather Turkey.
Fortunately, they'd been spared the foul fowl.
"I don't think I've emptied these many bedpans, kidney pails and buckets in one hour since I was a first-year intern and
they admitted a whole kindergarten class who'd eaten salmonella-infested potato-salad. All because of a few rotten
Never stopping in his meticulous scrubbing and rinsing, B.J. nods; from Hawkeye's vantage point it's only a minor up and
down movement of the ash-blond head, yet he catches the smile curling the lips hidden by the mustache.
"Yeah, why did we ever come back? And didn't we agree on not using the T-word for at least a *month*?"
"Sorry.I'll court-martial my tongue. You know, we should have gotten lost for good", Hawk mutters darkly. "Couldn't you
have taken that exit to Mongolia?"
B.J. sighs and shrugs. "Wasn't a road sign anywhere.besides, I was going way too fast."
"Won't argue with you there. That was supersonic driving. Yuck." He sets down two more bile-encrusted pails, frowning.
"You'd think that by now they'd all turned their stomachs inside out. But then there's always more, no rest for the
"Aw, this optimism, dear." B.J. winces theatrically and staggers back a step, but the grin reappears almost instantly.
"Besides, I love to see you getting your hands dirty."
"It's preferable to being talked to dirty."
"That's for later."
Hawkeye's frown softens into an expression of veiled delight. "Uh-huh. That a promise?"
"Knowing Margaret, she'll have Charles laundering sheets all night."
"Knowing Margaret, she'll also have *us* on our feet right beside him!"
"Ah. But she *likes* us!" B.J. sneaks a wet hand under the back of his partner's shirt and works his way upwards in
slow, suggestive strokes. Fingertips only.they leave gooseflesh in their wake.
"Not enough to give us a break, though, I'm afraid." Hawkeye bends forward, bracing himself on the folding table, and,
for a moment, just lets his head hang. It's all he can do not to give in, lean right into the caress, regardless of
prying eyes. Not that there are any outside of post-op right now, but they have to be careful. "My back feels like a
minefield of strained muscles."
"Yeah, quite a string of knots I feel here." Not exactly a surprise, considering that they've been on their feet for
twenty hours straight. Now the caress changes from the sympathetic to the sensual. "Want me to take care of it?"
"And how'd you do that, pray tell?"
"Prayers are the Padre's job, not mine, but I'm afraid he's also quite busy at the moment."
"Is he?" Hawk quips. "Then I'd like to add a 'God, I want this to end'."
"Going over Mulcahy's head *and* rosary? Bad boy."
As Hawk straightens, he pushes against B.J.'s palm resting between his shoulder-blades. Hurts so good. "Finest kind."
Another devil-may-care grin. He can imagine that hand going elsewhere.and the other hand joining it.making love to every
part of his body for hours. Time they don't have. But it falls away, leaving his skin tingling with need. His eyes snap
open and he turns. "Beej."
"Where are you going?"
"To the Swamp and see if the bar's still open."
"Would you like company?"
"Sure. Would you?"
The smile widens some more - too much more - and the cobalt eyes acquire a mischievous twinkle. "Sometimes to the point
of obsession." He takes a step forward, B.J. moving to meet him. Where he's hesitated before, he now relaxes,
luxuriating in the brief moment that he is held against his chest. There is a hint of salt on the soft skin on B.J.'s
throat.he sucks in the taste greedily. The stubble on the taller man's chin roughs his hair and is of the same
white-gold as the beach he knows he won't see again for a long time. Instead he is here, in this cesspool where black is
white and white is black and everything in between and principles get altered and reversed on a daily basis. The war
makes for strange bedfellows. Trust has long since become more important than monogamy. "Think Peg would object if you
took me home as a souvenir?" Ah, once again he's using physical optimism to induce emotional well-being. One shouldn't
trust doctors who medicate themselves, but this simple prescription works every time.
"I'm afraid she would. But Erin sure wouldn't mind a baby brother."
"Baby.?" Reaching around and down, he pinches B.J.'s butt.
"That's for the ageism, turkey!"
"Ah, you said the T-word again!"
"And I'm prepared to face the penalty, Captain Hunnicutt."
"So am I." It's going to be a pleasant one, no doubt, providing that the scrubbing and cleaning hasn't left Hawk's
imagination as wrinkled as his hands. Slowly, the slighter body rubs against him, building up a rhythm. "You know, you
sound more like a cat than a hawk."
Eyes shut, Hawk snuggles into his side, a perfect fit, nibbling on the softness of his left earlobe with a little growl.
"If that's so, then you're catnip."
B.J. lets out a pained sigh. "Uh, don't talk about food now, please." Then he twists his head to lock his lips to Hawk's
and slides his hands to favorite places. "Besides, I'm currently shopping for something else."
"I think I know exactly what's on your shopping list."
"Ah, and does the store still stock that particular.article?"
Unseen by B.J., the smile returns to Hawkeye's tired face. He brings up a hand to weave his fingers into wavy hair and
pull their bodies together when they've just begun to drift apart again. Every millimeter is too great a distance, he
has to have all the physical contact he can get. "Yeah", he whispers, "it does."
"How much do I get on my salary?"
"We have special rates for draftees." He pulls away, meeting B.J.'s eyes, and silently rejoices. It's there, that look.
The look you have to be quick and not too obvious to catch it. "I come the price of two dry martinis and a bowl of
"What a bargain. You're making it really *hard* to resist." His eyes drift shut as a skillful hand caresses his crotch.
"We should.relocate." Simple need.nothing's deeper, nothing's better. Hawkeye's ragged breath is sufficient incentive to
put pleasure before work, as is the whisper of "Never leave me, Beej."
"Oh, I'm much too close to you to leave. Besides, I'm good and I'm for free", B.J. promises him. "Won't cost you a
Although his heart knows better, Hawkeye nods. Of all the good things in this war, B.J. has cost him dearest. For him
he's paid the highest price of all. Swallowing the pain, he replies, "Come on, freebie, let's enjoy our *free* time in
our Winchester-free tent."
Nothing's free in life and love.