Trapper: "Hey, you know something? When I see you sitting there like that in your favorite chair, with a glass of raw spirits in your hand, thinking evil thoughts, I can't throw you out." He pinches Hawkeye's cheek.
Hawkeye: "If you kiss me, I'll throw up."
Trapper smiled and looked down at the floor of the swamp. If you only knew, he thought. He got up from Hawkeye's cot and made his way over to his own. It was safer over there, and safety was good. Maybe if he sat on his own cot, he wouldn't give in to the temptation. The temptation to kiss him. Man, was it ever strong right now. He couldn't believe Hawkeye had used the phrase "If you kiss me" in reference to him, even if it wasn't in the most flattering light. Trapper would take anything he could get. Trapper sighed and stared into his martini.
"Something the matter, Trap?"
Hawkeye's voice broke into Trapper's thoughts. He looked up and saw Hawkeye standing over him with the gin pitcher in hand, looking very concerned.
"I mean, you went from happy and laughing to somber and quiet faster than Radar can hear choppers. What's wrong?"
Trapper looked over at Hawkeye sadly, who was now sitting in the chair beside his cot, and then back to his drink.
"Nothing." Trapper said quietly, then drank the rest of his gin in one gulp. Maybe if he just stayed quiet and got drunk, Hawkeye would leave him alone.
"Trapper? C'mon, what's eating you? I mean, besides this rat poison-slash-lighter fluid mix." Hawkeye smiled at his description of the liquor the still provided, and hoped it would at least get a little rise out of Trapper. Something was bothering him, and Hawkeye was hoping that it wasn't too serious. He didn't want his best friend to be in a bad mood all night. The night went by so much longer then. But Trapper wasn't in the mood for Hawkeye's feeble attempts at humor. Trapper sighed again and put one hand over his eyes. How could he tell Hawkeye that what was bugging him was HIM and how he made him feel. But if he did, he'd be minus one best friend and plus one blue discharge. He didn't want either one. Trapper made up a half-lie he hoped would work.
"I just miss my wife and girls."
It was the truth, but not the thought that was bothering him. He just wanted Hawkeye to leave him alone, to quit probing his brain, and let him stew in peace.
Hawkeye had no idea that he was the cause of Trapper's condition. He also didn't buy Trapper's statement for a second. While he didn't doubt Trapper's statement, his wife and girls weren't even close to the topic of discussion before Trapper checked his brain at the door, so it couldn't be that. He'd try once more.
"Trap-per..." Hawkeye whined, knowing full well that the other doctor couldn't resist talking when his voice took that tone. "Trapper, c'mon, please? I know something's bothering you, please talk to me about it. Please?" Hawkeye gave Trapper his best puppy dog look as he poured him another drink. If this didn't work, nothing did.
Trapper smiled. Hawkeye didn't know how cute he looked. Three pleases? Hawkeye must really want to know what was going on rather badly. But he couldn't tell Hawkeye the truth. His eyes clouded over again, and he quickly went sullen again.
"Look, I told you, it's nothing, and if there was something, it probably wouldn't be anything you can do anything about, so drop it, okay? And please, just leave me alone." Trapper drained his drink, slammed down the glass, and turned away from Hawkeye to face the wall.
Hawkeye was stunned. Trapper never talked to him that way. Something serious was definitely bothering him, but he obviously didn't want to talk about it. Hawkeye sat back in his chair, refilled his glass, and picked up the latest issue of Nudist World News. There was silence in the Swamp for about an hour while one swamp-rat got lost in the latest pictures of co-ed naked soccer, and the other got lost in his thoughts.
