Title: Watching
Author: Me
Fandom: MASH
Pairing: Sidney POV -- BJ/Hawkeye; Charles/Margaret; Mulcahy/?
Prompt: #33 Too Much (and 'examine' from the yahoo group)
Rating: Captain
Word Count: 1713
Disclaimer: Nope … still don't own anything.
Summary: Sidney's visiting the 4077th again. His observations ...
Warning: A tiny bit 'o' slash and some self-loving.

A/N: Again, killing two birds with one stone … I used two prompts for this fic. #33 Too much from LJ's varietypack100 and "examine" from yahoo's 10-min. challenge. In total, it took me about 12 minutes, so go team me. Sorry about the choppiness … it's intentional. And also … I hate the ending, but I just couldn't come up with anything else.


The tepid water spills over Sidney's body and drains away at his feet. It's far too cool to be relaxing, yet too warm to offer him the relief he needs. He tries to clear the images of them from his head, to deafen himself to the memory of the sounds they made. But, it's impossible and all of his attempts fail.

Sidney doesn't want to do it, not here, not like this, but the impulse is too strong to resist. His hand strays across the expanse of his own stomach, winding its way along his skin, down, down, until it finds the curly patch of hair that covers his groin.


Every time he comes here, Sidney watches them. The way they dance around each other -- or in some cases, with each other. They each have different motivations, different reasons for what they do, but they all have their own specific partner.

Father Mulcahy. Strong. Stable. He brings them a sense of calm. Offers them a safe haven where they can have a moment of peace. Yet, he pines away for someone -- a man who is completely unaware of the good father's attraction to him. Francis keeps his feelings close to his chest. Keeps them secret. The guilt of having impure thoughts is eating the dear man alive.

And there is nothing Sidney can do for him.

Sherman Potter has Max Klinger. His surrogate son. The colonel constantly shifts between bitter disappointment and utter love for his young protégé. And while he is fully aware of the fact that Klinger is completely sane, there have been times when Sherman has almost given Klinger the Section 8 he so desires simply out of his concern for the man's future back home.

There's Charles Winchester and Margaret Houlihan. Their attraction to each other is blatantly obvious to everyone … except for them. Each studies the other constantly, yet it's almost as if neither one is willing to admit the way they feel. They don't understand that they are a perfect fit for each other. There have been attempts at flirting, but each effort has gone almost unnoticed. Because of their inability to let go of their preconceived attitudes for the other, they are in a continuous state of unresolved tension. So, they fight and bicker when they should be enjoying their time together.

And then the final pair. BJ Hunnicutt and Hawkeye Pierce. Best friends, closer than anyone Sidney's ever met. And while they have never given any indication that they were anything beyond friends, for some time now, Sidney has had suspicions about the nature of their relationship. Suspicions over the way they touch when they think no one's watching; the light that shines in their eyes when they're speaking to each other; the smiles that are reserved only for them.

They are the reason why he's in this shower right now.


Sidney had been asleep in the Swamp when he'd heard something. A soft rustling, then the low creak of someone getting out of bed. He hadn't thought much about it until a name was whispered quietly into the darkness.

"Beej."

There was no response, but instead the unmistakable sound of blankets being raised and the sharp protest of a small cot straining to hold not one, but two grown men. This was followed by deep sighs and quiet words and the wet connecting of mouths.

He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop. These were his friends, after all. They deserved their privacy. But, for the life of him, Sidney can't force himself to turn a deaf ear. And though he felt guilty for spying on them, Sidney listened intently to the men in the cot across from him.

Winchester's soft snoring masked the noises slightly, but Sidney could still hear them well enough to know what was occurring. The shushing of clothes as they were removed and dropped to the dirty floor. Sweat-soaked bodies pressed together, then sliding back and forth against each other. Choked gasps and stifled moans seeping from between kiss-swollen lips. And finally, a moment of silence, of held breath, before deep sighs of release were exhaled into the night air.

Sidney's heart was racing, but he stayed put. He waited until he heard Hawkeye redress and return to his own bed and when he was positive both men were back asleep -- their slow, steady breathing filling the Swamp -- he slid from his cot and rushed out of the tent.


He comes out of his memory and finds himself back in the shower, standing beneath a spray that has gone from warm to icy in what seems like a matter of seconds. The water is now so cold that he swears frozen cubes should be coming from the nozzle rather than liquid.

Yet his hand still rests against a solid erection. As his fingers wrap around it, Sidney marvels at the fact that he can feel warmth beneath the surface of his skin. Blood, hot as fire, courses through him and pools in his groin. Thoughts of them -- of BJ and Hawkeye -- swirl though his mind. The sound of their lips, their hands, their whispers, ring in his ears.

Sidney's hand slides along his own length, slowly, surely, then tightening and quickening until he has to bite back his own satisfied moan. He washes his semen from the stall and turns off the water. As he towels dry and dresses, Sidney turns his keen psychiatrist's eye on himself. Why did he have this type of reaction to them, to hearing them together?

Before he can answer, Sidney decides it doesn't matter why. There doesn't need to be a reason. He simply heard two people, his friends, enjoying each other passionately in a place where happiness and enjoyment is in short supply. If he thought about it more, he'd probably wind up being jealous of what they have together.

With a quiet chuckle and a shake of his damp hair, Sidney leaves the shower hut and returns to the Swamp. He enters the dark tent and the door closes behind him with a soft tap. As he approaches his cot, Hawkeye's light turns on. Sidney, startled, drops his towel and shower supplies onto the floor.

"Jesus, Hawkeye. You scared me."

"Sorry."

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, but I think you knew that already. I think," Hawkeye's voice is barely a whisper, but Sidney can hear the humor in his tone. "I'm ..."

"We're," BJ adds from his dark corner of the tent.

"We're the ones who woke you."

"I don't know what you mean," Sidney doesn't sound convincing enough and he cringes inwardly.

"Sid, don't try and shit a shitter. You'll never win." A wide grin curls Hawkeye's lips.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop on you both, but," Sidney laughs softly, "it would've been difficult to leave the room, given the circumstances. When you were both sleeping again, at least I thought you were, that's when I left. I needed a shower," he laughs again.

"That's okay, Sidney," BJ chuckles and clicks on his lamp then props himself up on his elbow. "It's our fault. We shouldn't have put you in that situation in the first place. But sometimes, it's just hard to resist the urge, you know?"

"I'm irresistible," Hawkeye adds happily and both BJ and Sidney roll their eyes.

"Hawk, you have an ego the size of Texas."

"Texas," Sidney says with a shake of his head, "and quite possibly all of its surrounding states."

The three of them share a laugh, then the Swamp goes silent for a moment. Sidney watches as BJ and Hawkeye exchange an uncomfortable glance.

"You don't have to worry. I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Thanks, Sidney," BJ inhales deeply, then exhales slowly. "We appreciate it."

"What about ..." he pauses and glances in Charles Winchester's direction. His voice drops even lower. "How have you kept it from him?"

"They haven't," Charles' sleepy, irritated voice rumbles through the space. "I know all about their torrid fumblings so could this conversation please cease and desist? I would like to get some sleep. Some of us have to work in the morning."

"Sorry, Chuck," Hawkeye laughs heartily. "We know you need your beauty sleep."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Well," Sidney's eyes pass from Hawkeye to BJ and he smiles. "It seems as though my suspicions about you have been confirmed. My work here is done." He wipes his hands together, bows and drops down onto his cot. "Thank you and good night."

"Wait a second, you had suspicions about us?" the confusion in Hawkeye's voice makes Sidney laugh. "What kind of suspicions?"

"Hawk, can't we just go to sleep?" BJ douses his light and lays back down.

"No, it's okay BJ. I guess I always knew there was something special between the two of you. You've been so close since the very beginning. I've never really seen that before. I don't know that I ever expected this exactly, but I knew there was something beyond friendship here."

"Gentlemen," Charles warns angrily. "Please."

"Fine," Hawkeye says, annoyance coloring his tone. "I'll shut up now, but you're not getting off scot-free, Sid. I want to talk about this in the morning." He flips off his light and punches his pillow back into shape.

"Hawkeye, there's really nothing else to tell. We can talk tomorrow if you'd like, but I don't know that I'll have anything different to tell you. I can analyze you, I can analyze BJ, but the story's not going to change."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay, Sid. Good night."

"Good night, Hawkeye."

A large grin forms on Sidney's lips as he gets comfortable. The sound of three men steadily breathing greets his ears -- they are asleep much faster than he'd expected. Exhaustion begins to pull at him as well and he allows it to drag him down. His last thoughts are of this place and of the people here. Of the friendships he's made with them. Of the friendships they've found with each other.

And Sidney can honestly say he feels happy.