The whole camp knew that Trapper and Hawkeye had had a fight. Trapper suspected Radar had spread the news after watching Hawkeye walk out on him in the Officer's Club. The kid was sweet, but he did have trouble keeping his mouth shut. It was bad enough not to be speaking to his best friend, but what was insult to injury was all the people who kept trying to give him couple's counseling. They weren't a damn couple.
"Everybody has a rough patch now and then, Trapper," a sympathetic Nurse Able had said.
Henry had been less concerned about their friendship and more concerned about poker. "Which one of you gets the game in the divorce?" he asked, puffing on a cigar. "I want to know if Pierce is getting all my money tonight or if I have a fighting chance."
And then of course there was Frank. Little worm that he was saw this as an opening to play enemy of my enemy.
Trapper was returning from the shower when he nearly got a face full of the Swamp's door as Hawkeye stormed out, roaring over his shoulder: "Frank, I would eat my own khaki shorts while singing Yankee Doodle Dandy in falsetto before I'd confide a thing in you!"
As he turned back around he came face to face with Trapper staring at him, towel in hand. Hawkeye's expression abruptly went from enraged to sarcastic. "Have fun, I'm sure you're next."
Trapper almost asked him what was going on, but Hawkeye stomped off toward Post-op before he could.
Frank was sitting on his cot when he entered, and he looked up at him, putting on what Trapper figured he thought was an innocent expression. "I'm sure it was his fault," he said as he polished his boot. "Whatever happened with you two, I mean. He's absolutely off his rocker. "
"Butt out, Frank before I give your nose a resection," Trapper replied, stalking over to his cot and throwing his towel down. He picked up his razor, stepped over a pile of clothes and came to a stop in front of the mirror hanging on the pole in the middle of the tent.
"Aw, come on, Trap," Frank said, earning a sharp glare for the use of the more familiar version of his nickname. Frank hesitated, but forged on. "What happened, anyway?"
Trapper just rolled his eyes and began lathering on shaving cream.
Frank was quiet a moment, waiting for an answer that wasn't coming. "Oh come on, you can tell me." He tugged on his boot. "I always thought we could have been friends, you know. If Pierce hadn't come in here and turned everyone against me. We were all getting along fine before he showed up."
"He didn't turn everyone against you, Frank," Trapper said, looking at him in the mirror. "That was your personality."
Frank let out a scoff that was mostly a whine. "I'm being serious! He's a blight on this man's army. He's got no respect, and what's worse is he drags everyone into his disgusting, perverted antics! Including you."
Trapper turned around to glare at him. "I'm not drug into any antics I don't want to be," he said, pointing his razor at him for emphasis.
"Oh yeah?" Frank asked. He stood, huffily putting his hands on his hips. It was a move his oldest daughter had used before and it seemed utterly absurd to see a grown man with no lips doing it. "Then what are you two fighting about? Huh?"
"You, Frank," Trapper said, going back to shaving. "We can't agree on which of us should get to deck you first."
Another huff. "At least that's less perverted than what he said," Frank muttered, sitting back on his cot and pulling out some paper and a pen.
Trapper just shook his head, continuing to shave. He couldn't help himself though. "What'd he say?"
"Humph. That you were both madly in love with me and fighting over who got to kiss me first," Frank replied as his pen scribbled words on the paper. "Disgusting."
Trapper's hand skittered and he cut himself. He cursed under his breath and grabbed a roll of toilet paper. Even after all this, Hawkeye was making jokes like that?
"It's almost a shame he isn't a homosexual," Frank continued, sniffing haughtily. "Then I could finally get rid of him once and for all. They wouldn't be able to ignore that, no sir. Wouldn't matter how good a surgeon he fools people into thinking he is." Frank had stopped working on his letter and was staring dreamily into space, presumably imagining finally getting rid of Hawkeye once and for all. "And that kind of thing follows you right into your civilian life, you know. I heard of one guy who got discharged for it and his whole hometown knew just what a freak he was before he even made it back to the States. Hah."
"Frank, close your mouth before I break your jaw," Trapper snapped.
"Oh, nerts to you!"
It was going on almost a week. With the exception of forced interactions, like the OR or the Swamp, Hawkeye and Trapper had spent almost no time together. When they did speak, the conversation was always clipped and to the point. The longer it went on the worse Hawkeye's mood became, to the point he was snapping at just about everyone who tried to speak to him. It was amazing he hadn't killed Frank yet.
As a result, most of the camp seemed to be on Team Trapper. They were giving Hawkeye wide berth, which meant that at meals people would choose to sit with Trapper instead. Trapper was still invited to play poker or basketball. Trapper was the one people were coming to when they needed help with a medical issue.
This just made him feel worse. The longer this went on, the more isolated Hawkeye was becoming. And over what? Because he couldn't reconcile that his best friend occasionally had sex with men?
Hawkeye was waiting for an apology. Trapper knew that. This stalemate wasn't going to break until Trapper broke it, because Hawkeye was possibly the most stubborn person he knew, next to maybe Klinger. And somewhere, beyond the all of the weird feelings that had him ignoring the most important person to him in Korea, Trapper knew that Hawkeye deserved that apology. What he had said that night in the Officer's Club was right. He was the same person and Trapper should have been able to understand that.
And yet, every time he thought about that night in Tokyo, his stomach twisted, and he found he couldn't even look at him. So he kept his mouth shut. And Hawkeye waited. He was hurt, Trapper could tell, but he seemed to be channeling that into anger, and the cycle continued.
"Supply hut," Nurse Mitchell said to him as they left the mess tent, finally agreeing to continue their last broken date. "Seven o'clock."
"We'll miss the movie," Trapper said, but he was grinning, and he was making it more than obvious that that was not a concern for him.
"Exactly." She smiled before turning and heading for her tent. She was a minx with black hair, and curves in all the right places. Trapper was looking forward to the distraction.
He made it to the supply hut at seven sharp. It was already dark outside, so he had to grope around to find the light switch. He was finally able to illuminate the hut and immediately stopped short at the sight of the wrong minx with black hair. Hawkeye, arm thrown over his eyes, was lying on the cot that was generally used for illicit purposes.
"What-"
At the sound of Trapper's voice, Hawkeye lifted his arm and looked over, frowning in confusion at what was apparently an unexpected visitor. There was a bang and a click behind him, and Trapper whirled around in surprise, staring at the now shut supply door.
"What the hell?" he said, trying to open it, but finding it stuck.
"Sorry, Trapper!" It was nurse Mitchell, her voice muffled through the door.
"The nurses took a vote, and it's time you two worked out whatever your problem is," called a second voice. Nurse Able, maybe.
"Hey, wait a minute." It was Hawkeye. He'd gotten off the cot and approached the door. "Let us out of here."
"Sorry, Hawkeye," Able said. "You've been a real bear to be around lately, so until you two have a better attitude about things, you both better get comfy."
Trapper could hear giggling from through the door. "You've gotta be kidding!" he said, trying to push the door open again.
"It's locked," Mitchell called. "See you in the morning!"
"Hey!" Hawkeye yelled, nearly deafening Trapper. "Hey, you can't do this - let us out!"
"Yeah, this is a violation of our rights or something!" Trapper added.
For a moment the two of them forgot they were barely speaking, and focused on banging on the door and trying to get the nurses, or anyone really, to let them out of the supply hut.
"How can nobody hear us?" Hawkeye said, after a good ten minutes yielded no results.
Realization dawned on Trapper. "The movie."
Hawkeye groaned. "Great." He seemed to give up on trying to escape, turning around and heading back over to the cot to take a seat.
Trapper gave up as well, sliding down the door until he was sitting. Usually Hawkeye couldn't go more than a thirty seconds without starting to babble on about something, so he waited.
He wasn't sure how long they sat in awkward silence, but, for once, it was Trapper who couldn't hold out.
"So which nurse got you?" he asked. "Able?"
Hawkeye looked up from the dust he'd been examining on the floor, confused. "What?"
"Who lured you in here?" Trapper tried again. "Mitchell got me."
"Oh," Hawkeye said. He shrugged. "I was just here."
"You were just here?" Trapper sounded dubious. Who just came to the supply hut to hang out alone? No one, that's who.
"Yeah," Hawkeye said. "I was just here."
"I see."
"What does that mean?" Hawkeye immediately asked.
"Nothing," Trapper said. "It's just not the type of place one usually comes alone, that's all." He hesitated, then continued on. "Were you meeting somebody else?" Hawkeye stared at him. "Like... someone besides a nurse?"
"Yes, Trapper," Hawkeye snapped. "You found me out. I was waiting for Frank for a little rendezvous. I know it's taboo but that lack of a chin just drives me wild."
"First of all, never give me that mental image again, I don't think my brain can handle it," Trapper said. "And secondly, you're the one who was saying it was no big deal. Why are you getting all snippy at a perfectly legitimate question?"
Hawkeye gazed at him a moment. Eventually he sighed. "I wasn't meeting anyone." He laid down on the cot, turning his back to Trapper. He could really be a petulant child at times. "It's just a good place to be left alone. Been caught once or twice by a nurse, so they must have realized I'd be here."
Trapper had been wondering where Hawkeye'd been getting off to. More and more he hadn't been in the Swamp, but Trapper deliberately hadn't put too much thought into it, mostly because he knew that it was his fault. He didn't know what to say, so he fell quiet, leaning his head back against the door and closing his eyes.
He didn't mean to fall asleep, but at some point he must have dozed, because he found himself back in Hawkeye's room in Tokyo. This time he didn't leave, he just stood there in the door, frozen while he watched Broadshoulders kissing Hawkeye's neck, drawing a moan from him. It was loud, just like everything Hawkeye tended to do. As he watched, Hawkeye's eyes opened and caught Trapper's gaze. Neither of them looked away from each other, even as the Major's hands moved, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of Hawkeye's pants.
"Join us, Trap?" Hawkeye asked.
And then, in the way that only dreams can do, Trapper realized that he was Broadshoulders, pressing up against his friend, Hawkeye's hand on the small of his back.
"Oh, they'll believe me now!" It was Frank, who was standing next to them, grinning and taking pictures. "You'll both be discharged!" he cried gleefully, laughing his high pitched laugh. "What a day for Frank Burns! I'll be rid of you and everyone will know!"
Next to Frank was a pretty blonde woman, soft features twisted in horror. His wife. "John, how could you?"
"Trapper! Hey, Trap, wake up!" His eyes snapped open and his vision was filled with worried blue eyes and dark hair. Hawkeye was crouched in front of him. He could feel his friend's hands on his shoulders, anchoring him tightly to reality. "You were having a nightmare." For a moment he must have been stuck between the dream and the waking world, because he had the insane desire to lean in and close what little distance there was between them and kiss him.
As soon as he fully realized what he was thinking, Trapper pushed Hawkeye away from him, hard. "Don't touch me, you pervert!" It was out of his mouth before he even really knew what he was saying. Hawkeye, still crouching, lost his balance, and fell backwards into a supply shelf, which rattled from the impact, teetering. It didn't tip, but several light bulbs fell to the floor and shattered, fortunately after Hawkeye had landed on his ass.
Then it was silent as they stared at each other, Trapper breathing heavily from the dream and Hawkeye's eyes wide in surprise, but slowly narrowing.
"Attention all personnel! Incoming casualties! Come and get 'em!"
The two surgeons looked up at the ceiling of the hut as if they could see the speaker.
Trapper returned his gaze to Hawkeye, then slowly stood without a word. Hawkeye moved to do the same and in the silence Trapper heard his intake of breath. He'd put his hand down to push himself up and forgotten about the lightbulbs.
"Okay you guys, you want to tell me what's going on?" Henry asked, pouring three scotches from his private store.
Henry had told the two that he wanted to see them in his office after Hawkeye had arrived to Pre-op bleeding and had Henry patch him up instead of Trapper. This was followed by several hours of surgery in which neither of them had spoken except to ask for instruments and where even the nurses were unusually quiet.
The nurses knew they couldn't leave two surgeons trapped in a shed when there were wounded about to pour in. They were probably hoping to find two friends again, but they were sorely disappointed to find neither man looking happy and Hawkeye cradling his hand. Fortunately, it hadn't been too bad of a cut, and Henry had wrapped it up and Hawkeye was operating without much apparent issue.
Now it was nearly dawn, and Henry slid a drink to both of them. They were each in a chair in front of his desk. "Nothing, Henry," Hawkeye said. "Just a long day."
"You two have been having a long day for the last few weeks," Henry said. "Now, I can't have two of my my best surgeons at each other's throats, so let's have it. What's the problem?"
Hawkeye drank his scotch like it was a shot. "Well, Henry, sometimes you think you know a guy, and it turns out you were about as wrong as you could be."
Trapper was just staring at his drink. On top of feeling like the shittiest friend in the world, he was still trying to forget about that dream.
"Look you, guys," Henry said, exasperated. That was a default setting for Henry. Anytime something required some thought, or couldn't be solved by signing a form Radar handed him, Henry usually became exasperated. It was generally an endearing quality. Right now it was less so. "Nobody's happy here, all right? We've all just got to make the best of it. You two are best friends. I'm sure whatever it is that has you both all lathered up is going to pass and you'll be back to being one big pain in my keister instead of two separate ones." He leaned back in his seat and took a sip of his drink. "And if you could just do that sooner rather than later it'd be a big help to me, you know? Trying to deal with the army is bad enough."
He didn't seem too pleased when neither one would look at the other.
The doors opened and Radar came in, slip of paper in his hand. "Colonel, sir? Battalion aid just called, they've got an injured doctor and they need some help right away, sir."
Henry sat up straight. "Are there more casualties coming in, Radar?"
"Yes, sir, word is the enemy attacked unexpectedly. Choppers'll start coming in soon. Maybe an hour."
Henry sighed, finished his drink, and stood. "All right, Radar. Get Burns here on the double so we can figure out who's going to Batallion aid. Then alert the nurses and supply, make sure we're ready for the next wave."
Simultaneously, Radar said, "Major Burns is on his way, sir, and I'll alert the nurses and supply to be standing by."
"Thank you, Radar. Dismissed." Henry rubbed at his eyes as Radar left the office, the door swinging behind him.
"All right boys, I know how much we all love drawing straws for Battalion Aid, but it's not like we ever get any volunteers. Pierce, you went last time, so you'll be exempt-"
"I'll go," Hawkeye said, setting down his glass and standing as well.
Trapper finally looked at him, incredulous. "You already went."
"Pierce, he's right, it's someone else's turn," Henry said, clearly a bit taken aback at getting a volunteer.
"I said I'll go," Hawkeye replied.
Frank sped into Henry's office, already complaining. "Sir, I feel as though my leadership is needed here, not at Battalion Aid. Not to mention I have a wife who-"
"Can it, Frank," Henry interrupted. He eyed Hawkeye, who, for once, actually looked serious. He sighed. "Hawkeye volunteered."
"Henry-" Trapper didn't like this. But Hawkeye had already turned and headed for the door.
"Be careful, Pierce," Henry said.
Hawkeye just gave a brief wave over his shoulder. Frank started prattling on about how it was nice to know his talents were appreciated and Trapper set his untouched drink on Henry's desk and went after Hawkeye. The camp was quiet. Most people had gone to bed, though the sun was slowly rising, casting everything in a dull grey light.
"What are you doing?" he asked, marching into the Swamp, door banging closed behind him.
Hawkeye was tossing some extra clothes in his bag. He dropped to the floor to grab his helmet from under his cot. "This is called packing," Hawkeye replied, pushing himself to his feet and sticking his helmet on his head.
"I mean volunteering to go up to Battalion Aid," Trapper replied. "Are you crazy?"
"Crazy? Am I crazy?" Hawkeye said, with a slightly manic grin as he shoved some socks in his bag. "I checked my sanity on the flight here and they lost my luggage."
"Hawkeye, come on - go back to Henry and tell him you unvolunteer," Trapper said, even though he knew that meant there was a chance he might have to go in his stead.
"Why?" Hawkeye asked. "What reason have I got to hang around here at the moment?" He closed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "The front'll be a welcome reprieve from whatever this has been."
"Hawk…" Trapper began. Hawkeye paused and looked at him, maybe sensing something about his tone. "I'm sorry, all right? I was... I was half asleep. I didn't mean to push you."
Hawkeye remained where he was, bag on his shoulder, looking at him expectantly for a few moments. Trapper knew he needed to apologize for more than shoving him. He needed to apologize for what he'd said. He needed to tell Hawkeye that it didn't matter to him. That he was still his best friend. But the words stuck in his throat. He watched Hawkeye's expression grow disappointed when it was clear that was all he would be saying.
There was a knock on the door. "Captain Pierce, sir?" Radar said, peeking his head in. "Hawkeye? I have a jeep ready for you."
"Thanks, Radar," Hawkeye said. Radar disappeared and the door closed.
"Be careful," Trapper said, though the words felt insignificant, all things considered.
Hawkeye just nodded before turning and leaving.
