This may be read as Hawkeye/Margaret or Hawkeye/OC, whatever suits your fancy! Constructive criticism is always welcomed.
Whenever Hawkeye Pierce wanted a bit of quiet time, a moment to himself with no nurses cooing in his ear or other doctors wanting his time or the army demanding his very life, he would creep away to her tent. Didn't matter when, anytime of day of night, it was all the same to her. He would knock (you never went into that tent without knocking) and then he'd slip inside. Sometimes she'd be there, sometimes not. It didn't matter. If she were there, she'd look at him, arch her eyebrow in that particular manner she had, and then return to her task at hand with quiet efficiency. He would pick a spot in the tent (the bed, the chair, the floor, it didn't matter) and settle in with unusual (for him at least) silence. Sometimes he would read, or play with the things on her desk. Sometimes he would take a nap, or just sit and watch her work. When he crept into that tent, they were always comfortably silent. And in the end, when he seemed calmer and more at rest, he would rise from his spot as silently as he had entered and he would return to the hustle and bustle of the camp.
Whenever Hawkeye Pierce wanted to rant and rave and argue to no one in particular, he would storm away to hertent. He would knock (because bad things happened to those who didn't) and then he'd blow inside. If she were there, she'd look at him, arch her eyebrow, and quietly put aside whatever her task at hand. She would settle in and let him get on with the ranting and raving. Sometimes it was about the food (if you could call it that) and sometimes it was about the failed (yet again) peace talks. Sometimes it was about the men (men? No, children) he had to operate upon, and sometimes it was just about the fact that he missed his home. She'd listen quietly, letting him roar his rage away. And in the end, when he seemed smaller somehow and not as filled with anger, she would smile softly and he would look at her and thank her and he would let himself out and back to the Swamp.
Whenever Hawkeye Pierce wanted to cry, he would find his way to her tent. He would knock (because they never did find that one soldier who dared to enter without such courtesy) and then he'd fall inside. If she were there, she'd look at him, arch her eyebrow, and open her arms to him in quiet solace. She would support his trembling body as he mourned the day's losses and stroke his hair while he grieved for the absolute stupidity of it all. She would hold his hands clasped in hers while he wept for the war, for lost loves, for himself. And in the end, when he seemed drained of tears and no less sad, she would smooth back his hair and kiss his forehead and he would leave her tent with one less crack in his broken heart.