For Old Times' Sake
(Author's Note: Still finding oldies from my files that I never posted here. This one was written by request; someone wanted a sexy Hawkeye/Trapper slash fic for her birthday. Those two are not my ship at all, but I was intrigued by the challenge and gave it a shot. This is the result.)
Heading home from Korea proved to be a real bear.
Hawkeye listened to the sergeant at Kimpo explain the seemingly endless connections, and his eyes started to glaze over. Tokyo to Los Angeles to New York to Boston to Portland, Maine.
Jesus Christ, Hawkeye thought, I could walk home faster.
But his frustration didn't last long. The war had just ended and he was riding a natural high the likes of which he hadn't felt in years. He was going home… Crabapple Cove, Maine… his dad… his old life. If it took days to get there, then so be it. He would just sit back and enjoy the scenery as it passed by.
When he landed at LAX, he made a long-distance phone call. And then he canceled the connecting flight between New York City and Boston.
He was one weary traveler when he landed at LaGuardia, but his pulse kicked into high gear as he picked up his baggage and headed to the gate. The anticipation drove away any fatigue he'd been feeling moments before.
"Hey hey!"
He heard the voice before he saw the owner of it, but it sent a surge through his body. Two years, he hadn't heard that voice. Two years, he hadn't seen the man.
And now here he was, Trapper John McIntyre, waiting at the gate with his arms held open, his face beaming.
Hawkeye dropped his bags and flew into Trapper's arms, hanging on tight, realizing (and not for the first time) that they'd never gotten a goodbye hug. Not to mention kiss.
Didn't matter, he supposed. With some people, there's no such thing as goodbye.
"Trapper!" His voice sounded strange to himself. Too emotional. It caught him off guard. He pulled back but not entirely out of Trapper's embrace. After a moment to collect himself, he said, "Thanks for picking me up, Trap. I thought, one less connecting flight…"
"Hell, happy to do it, Hawk," Trapper said, and he bent down to pick up one of Hawkeye's two bags. "I'm glad you called. Of course I can drive you from here to Boston. Give us a chance to… get caught up."
They made their way out of the airport and toward the parking lot. Trapper gestured toward a red Buick, and Hawkeye realized with a jolt that this would be his first ride in a civilian car in three years. Well, not counting that car that Kyung Soon had driven.
He shook his head, not wanting to think about Kyung Soon.
"How're things at the hospital, Trap?"
"Terrific." Trapper threw both of Hawkeye's bags into the back seat and they got in the car. He looked over at his passenger, tilted his head. "You sure you don't want to consider moving to Boston? I could get you in there, no sweat. It's a great hospital."
Hawkeye shook his head. "It's a nice offer, Trap. But I need to be in Maine. With my dad. Actually, it's not even entirely about my dad… I just need to be in Maine."
Trapper nodded in understanding.
"I did think about it, though. When you first wrote to me with the offer. I thought about it for a long time… how great it would be to work with you… be around you all the time." Something in Trapper's expression stopped Hawkeye from pursuing that train of thought. "But like I said in my letter, I'll be fine working with my dad at his practice. I'm looking forward to it."
Trapper started the car and began to maneuver his way out of the parking lot and onto New York's highways. Hawkeye tapped his knee nervously at first, filled with too much energy and no place to go with it. But after a few dozen miles, he began to relax. He found comfort in the drone of the car engine, in the familiar signs along the side of the road, and in the knowledge that he was on U.S. soil.
There were almost equal parts catching up and companionable silences as Trapper drove them north, away from the Big Apple and toward the city he called home.
Nearly an hour into the trip, Hawkeye had finally managed to work up the nerve to ask. He wasn't sure how it was going to go over, but if he thought about it too much longer, he'd chicken out. "What do ya say, Trap… can we stop somewhere?" he asked cautiously. "You know… a motel, maybe?"
Trapper looked over at him with a lopsided grin. "Tired?" he teased.
Hawkeye swallowed. Why was he so nervous about this? "Not tired at all, actually," he said, trying to sound suave. In truth, he felt inept. "I haven't… you know… been with a man since you left."
Trapper let out something close to a laugh. "I find that hard to believe."
Hawkeye felt defensive. "Believe it or don't believe it. But it's the truth. Hey, I was living with Mr. Clean for two years."
Trapper waved a hand in his direction, "What about the other guy?"
Hawkeye almost asked, What other guy? But then he realized, and laughed. "You mean Charles? Charles?" He couldn't help it, now he guffawed. "Trapper, I realize that you think I bed anyone over the age of 18, but there are some people I don't even consider. And Charles would definitely be one of those people."
"Wow," Trapper said, glancing over. "Nobody since I left, huh?"
"Well… lots and lots of women," Hawkeye said, as if trying to reclaim his playboy status in the eyes of Trapper John.
"I don't doubt that," chuckled Trapper. "I, uh, wouldn't mind stopping for a little while myself. Take a break from driving. Sure, why the hell not."
They weren't picky. They stopped at the next motel that crossed their path.
"You wait in the car," Trapper said as he got out. "I don't want to have any desk clerk wondering why two guys need a motel room at 4 in the afternoon."
Hawkeye obediently waited in the car. His leg started to jiggle up and down, his fingers tapped an unrecognizable tune on the dashboard. He stared outside the windshield, willing Trapper to get back fast.
Finally Trapper returned, key in hand, and he gestured Hawkeye out of the car.
They were barely inside the door, Hawkeye kicking it shut, when they were on each other.
Hot, hungry kisses and whimpers and Trapper walking Hawkeye backward until they both fell onto the bed.
Clothing being pulled off frantically (a button went flying from Trapper's shirt, never to be found again)… bedsprings creaking under the rolling and flailing men… harsh, heavy breathing… cursing and grunting and needing… needing.
"Trap, please," Hawkeye breathed, naked and panting and hard. "Please."
Trapper flashed his devil-may-care grin and drawled, "At your service, Dr. Pierce," and calmly, casually put his mouth around Hawkeye's agonizing erection.
Hawkeye sighed, letting the sensations overtake him… getting lost in the moment… barely able to process that he was with Trapper John McIntyre again… back in the United States of America and getting laid in a motel room…
By the one man he thought he'd never see again.
It didn't take long… Trapper didn't have to work very hard…
Hawkeye looked down at the curly-haired head administering to him, then threw his own head back, closed his eyes, and came into that beautiful mouth.
Later… the frenzy long over, the itches scratched… Hawkeye said lazily, as his fingers played with the curls he remembered so well, "Maybe I can come down to Boston every few weekends…"
Trapper went still and stayed silent.
Hawkeye took his hand from Trapper's hair. "Trap?" he asked, but he had an idea.
Trapper sighed, then moved to get up off the bed. "Hawkeye, I'm trying really hard—ever since I got home from the war—to be a better husband."
"Well, bravo, my friend," Hawkeye said bitterly, propping himself up on his elbows. "Because you're cheating on your wife even as we speak, so obviously you're doing really well with that—"
Trapper turned his back to Hawkeye. "I am, Hawk. I've been a faithful, attentive husband. This, what just happened here… this was…"
"What?"
"This was just for old times' sake. That's all." He turned to look at Hawkeye's face again, and his expression was genuinely contrite. "I'm sorry if you thought something else." He shrugged and began to get dressed.
"Oh. I see," Hawkeye said softly. He was hurt and pissed, because of course he had thought they were rekindling their relationship, but he refrained from saying anything more. He didn't want to sound pathetic and needy… didn't want to come across as lovesick or weak. He was a man; he could deal with this. Ex-lover moves on… well I can do that too.
He silently watched Trapper getting dressed, and then he moved off the bed too. "Gonna take a shower before we get back on the road," he said. "I still haven't scrubbed Korea off my skin."
"Take your time," Trapper said with a wave.
Hawkeye closed the bathroom door and stared at his face in the mirror. No tears, he willed himself, and amazingly, there were none. Maybe he'd been hurt so many times by now that there were no tears left in him.
He didn't like the expression on his face. He looked old to himself. He looked beaten down.
Sighing, he stepped into the shower and stood under the spray… feeling the warm water wash over him… marveling in the novelty of being able to shower alone. He lathered up, but even after he rinsed off, he still stood there, taking his time as Trapper had suggested, and awed by the fact that the water hadn't turned cold yet.
He didn't hear the door open, but for some reason he wasn't too surprised when a naked Trapper stepped into the shower behind him. Hawkeye only looked at him questioningly, stepping back to make room for him.
The look on Trapper's face was somewhere between guilt and longing. He put his hands on Hawkeye's waist and said, quietly, "This is the last time, Hawk."
A half-smile came to Hawkeye as he turned around, bracing himself against the shower wall. "Whatever you say, Trap."