Category: Five-Minute Fic; Humor
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I do not own M*A*S*H, Charles, Klinger, Sparky... anything.
Summary: Klinger's desperately seeking a replacement bottle of wine for a very special major.
Pairing: Klinger/Charles
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"If I don't get a replacement before he gets back from leave, they'll be able to send me back to Toledo in a syringe! Sparky, you have to know of some place where I can get a bottle of-- No I will not hold! Sparky! Sp--"
The phone line went dead and Klinger furiously replaced the phone, holding his head in his hands. It was a disaster. An absolute disaster. He was dead. Really, truly dead.
It had been an accident, it really had. The boys were having a nice game of craps and they'd asked him to accompany them. One thing led to another and he'd had far too much to drink and far too little tolerance for it the next morning when he was out delivering the mail.
Major Winchester was on leave for 2 days, and in his absence he'd received a package from home. Klinger scoffed at the sight of the elegantly wrapped box with an embossed French label on the side, and even though it was a short walk from his office to the swamp, his head was throbbing and the sun was brighter than his eyes could tolerate. So really, it wasn't his fault when he tripped over a crate and let go of all the mail. It wasn't his fault when the package went flying and landed with a thud and a crack. hell, it wasn't even his fault when Margaret's jeep pulled up and ran over the package! As Klinger saw it, it was unfortunate but not the end of the world.
But Charles Emerson Winchester III most likely wouldn't see things his way, and Klinger had frantically alternated between trying to get a replacement bottle and writing his will, leaving everything he owned to Charles because he'd most likely sue the pants off his estate and get it all anyway.
When he heard the sound of a jeep outside, he was barely able to stifle a girlish scream. At that exact same moment, the phone rang, and he picked it up breathlessly, his heart in his ears. Sparky was on the other end of the line.
"Hey, Klinger. Sorry about before.. uh.. we got cut off. Anyway, I found a bottle of that stuff you wanted at the 5634th. They only want-"
"They can have it all! Sparky, have I ever told you you're an angel?!"
"Aww, don't even, Max. You and I both know you're sweet on that major you're going to all the trouble for!"
Klinger rolled his eyes and hung up the phone, running outside. Charles was standing next to his jeep, blinking in the blinding sun and staring absently at his bags.
"Major, welcome back! You look absolutely marvelous today! My goodness, is that burst blood vessel new?" Klinger sang.
"Klinger, I am in no mood for your blather. Take my bags and do... something with them. I need a shower." Charles said quietly, rubbing his head.
"I trust your excursions in Seoul were most hearty then, o inebriated one?"
Charles mumbled and staggered off to the showers, leaving Klinger with a grin on his face and the warm, enjoyable knowledge that Sparky had been right.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I do not own M*A*S*H, Charles, Klinger, Sparky... anything.
Summary: Klinger's desperately seeking a replacement bottle of wine for a very special major.
Pairing: Klinger/Charles
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"If I don't get a replacement before he gets back from leave, they'll be able to send me back to Toledo in a syringe! Sparky, you have to know of some place where I can get a bottle of-- No I will not hold! Sparky! Sp--"
The phone line went dead and Klinger furiously replaced the phone, holding his head in his hands. It was a disaster. An absolute disaster. He was dead. Really, truly dead.
It had been an accident, it really had. The boys were having a nice game of craps and they'd asked him to accompany them. One thing led to another and he'd had far too much to drink and far too little tolerance for it the next morning when he was out delivering the mail.
Major Winchester was on leave for 2 days, and in his absence he'd received a package from home. Klinger scoffed at the sight of the elegantly wrapped box with an embossed French label on the side, and even though it was a short walk from his office to the swamp, his head was throbbing and the sun was brighter than his eyes could tolerate. So really, it wasn't his fault when he tripped over a crate and let go of all the mail. It wasn't his fault when the package went flying and landed with a thud and a crack. hell, it wasn't even his fault when Margaret's jeep pulled up and ran over the package! As Klinger saw it, it was unfortunate but not the end of the world.
But Charles Emerson Winchester III most likely wouldn't see things his way, and Klinger had frantically alternated between trying to get a replacement bottle and writing his will, leaving everything he owned to Charles because he'd most likely sue the pants off his estate and get it all anyway.
When he heard the sound of a jeep outside, he was barely able to stifle a girlish scream. At that exact same moment, the phone rang, and he picked it up breathlessly, his heart in his ears. Sparky was on the other end of the line.
"Hey, Klinger. Sorry about before.. uh.. we got cut off. Anyway, I found a bottle of that stuff you wanted at the 5634th. They only want-"
"They can have it all! Sparky, have I ever told you you're an angel?!"
"Aww, don't even, Max. You and I both know you're sweet on that major you're going to all the trouble for!"
Klinger rolled his eyes and hung up the phone, running outside. Charles was standing next to his jeep, blinking in the blinding sun and staring absently at his bags.
"Major, welcome back! You look absolutely marvelous today! My goodness, is that burst blood vessel new?" Klinger sang.
"Klinger, I am in no mood for your blather. Take my bags and do... something with them. I need a shower." Charles said quietly, rubbing his head.
"I trust your excursions in Seoul were most hearty then, o inebriated one?"
Charles mumbled and staggered off to the showers, leaving Klinger with a grin on his face and the warm, enjoyable knowledge that Sparky had been right.