Moments Like These.
86 hours. That's how long Hawkeye Pierce had been stuck performing meatball surgery inside of an O.R. the size of a tuna can. He felt his feet drag along the muddy floor of the 4077, the hot August air not helping his fatigue. There had been constant fighting at the front, and the wounded kept pouring in. At first all four surgeons had been operating, but as time dragged on, they all left. Henry couldn't feel his hands, and silly mistakes turned into bad fuck-ups. Trapper, who was fed up with his fingers getting cut by Burn's scalpel, had kicked out Frank in the midst of a fight, who Hawkeye was too deep in guts to join. Finally, Trapper John had passed out in between patients, and had to be carried by Klinger and Father Mulcahy back to the Swamp. This had left Hawkeye alone, treating patient after patient. Sure, he got some help from the nurses, and the casualties had not been too severe, but he was still ready to fall down on the filthy floor and sleep. He saw Klinger rolling around an O.R. table, and the moment he saw the turquoise dress move closer to him, and the rolling table pass next to his f, he slumped down and ordered Klinger to push him to the tent he had named the Swamp.
"Sir, I have a delivery for you" Called Klinger to Trapper, who was reading a book while resting on what the army said to be a bed. He nodded, and gave the corpsman a tired, half-crooked smile.
"Well Klinger, I wasn't expecting a package. I hope it isn't a present from you" He joked, as he dragged himself to pick up his friend, who was groaning and whining at the thought of getting up.
"No sir, not until you buy me dinner, or you sign that Psycho Pass" And with that he was off. Trapper threw a blanket on Hawkeye, who was half asleep on his bed already, and returned to his book. He would have loved to sleep, but he had Post-Op duty in less than an hour, and his body would not handle waking up easily.
A few minutes passed, and Trapper could feel his eyes about to shut. The bed next to him whined under pressure, and soft footsteps could be heard from next to him. Without lifting his gaze from the book, Trapper lifted his arm. Next thing, he felt soft hair tickling his neck, and even breathing hitting his chest.
"C'mon Hawks, you should be asleep" He joked, but his protective side tended to show around Hawkeye when he was tired. The blue-eyed male groaned, intertwining his legs with the Trapper's. It was moments like these that made John Xavier McIntyre forget how ugly and painful a war could be, and it was these times in which made him forget he was married. He also tended to forget that there was a job he had to do, and so he put down his book, and wrapped the arm that was not limp under the other male around Hawkeye's waist.
Trapper didn't sleep; instead he took in Hawkeye's scent, he ran his hand softly down his boyfriend's back, and he savored the moment. They barely had any time alone, with all the surgery and all the bickering with Frank. Hawkeye stirred, and Trapper was met with two beautiful blue eyes.
"Sleep Damn it." Hawkeye said groggily. "Your pointless smiling is making me even more tired." Trapper laughed, and entangled his fingers with Hawkeye's black hair. Hawkeye was soon dreaming again. Trapper's lips planted a gentle kiss on his partner's forehead, and his eyes closed slowly, until he was overtaken by sleep.
It was moments like these that made Trapper John McIntyre fall in love.