The More I Want You
Hawkeye walked into O'Rourke's, his eyes scanning, looking for B.J. It was just after 5 o'clock, and the place was getting crowded. A lot of people stopped into this bar after a long day at work, nursing a drink or two before heading home, or grabbing a quick (if not entirely nutritious) bite to eat before hitting the town. Hawkeye and B.J. didn't make a habit of coming here, but this week, with Erin staying at Peg's, they didn't have any compelling reason to get home right after work. Besides, B.J. seemed to have an addiction to the burgers here.
Hawkeye finally spotted Beej in a back booth, a hamburger and side of fries in front of him, a beer in a mug at his right hand. Hawkeye immediately started preparing a lecture in his head, something along the lines of how a physician ought to know better than to eat his way to a heart attack, but before he even got to the booth to begin his sermonizing, he realized that B.J. was not alone. Well, he was sitting alone, certainly, but the woman in the next booth was leaning over the seat and engaging him in conversation. She was smiling and he was smiling, and Hawkeye's health lecture instantly vanished from his mind as he realized that B.J. was being blatantly flirted with.
His man, on the receiving end of this strange woman's advances. And knowing B.J., he probably wasn't even aware of what was going on. Oh, she was just being friendly, he would say when Hawkeye would point out the obvious. Don't be so paranoid, Hawk.
Hawkeye sighed and slipped into the booth, sitting opposite B.J. and rather rudely interrupting the conversation by putting himself between B.J. and his predator. "Hi Beej," he said with a sunny smile.
"Hey, Hawk," B.J. said, then leaned over a bit so he could see the woman at the next booth. "I apologize for the interruption," he said to her, "but my friend is here. Nice talking to you, though."
She apparently took the hint and simply said, "Yes, same here," before turning back to her own meal.
B.J. gave Hawkeye a pointed look. "That was a little obnoxious, Hawk. I was talking to that young lady. You had to have noticed."
Hawkeye waved a hand. "Didn't seem like anything important."
B.J. evidently didn't buy the nonchalant act. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Hawkeye across the table. "Don't overreact, Hawk. She was just being friendly."
Bingo, Hawkeye thought, and he waved his hand again. "Yeah, I know the story, you're sitting here all alone and she felt sorry for you. Came to your rescue so you wouldn't be all lonely and sad."
B.J. sighed and took a drink of his beer, then surprisingly dropped the subject, saying instead, "I didn't order for you, Hawk. I wasn't sure when you'd get here."
"OK," Hawkeye said, motioning to the waitress a few tables over. While he waited for her to get around to him, he helped himself to a French fry from B.J.'s plate, and said, "So after we're done here, what do ya say… movie?" Invasion of the Body Snatchers was showing at the theater the next block over. Hawkeye was practically frothing at the mouth to see that one.
Around a bite of his hamburger, B.J. said, "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. Guess I better leave room for popcorn." When he smiled, Hawkeye noticed that there was a touch of ketchup at the corner of his mouth. He very nearly reached over and wiped it away with his thumb, then remembered that they were in a public place and pulled his hand back.
"Napkin, Beej," he said instead, and B.J. took care of it himself.
The woman in the next booth stood up then, stopping at their table before heading out. "It was nice to meet you, Doctor," she addressed B.J., effectively ignoring Hawkeye. "I hope I run into you in here again sometime."
B.J., still chewing, merely raised his hand, with the napkin still in it, in acknowledgment. She glanced ever-so-briefly at Hawkeye but said nothing, and then she strutted away. Actually strutted, Hawkeye noted… for B.J.'s benefit, no doubt.
He turned his gaze back to B.J., who was looking down at his fries and picking out the bad ones to set aside. Hawkeye shook his head. Poor, oblivious B.J. Wouldn't know a come-on if the woman bit him on the ass.