"Hawkeye!" Kellye called to Hawkeye as he headed across the compound.

"Yes?"

The Hawaiian nurse scurried to his side. "Did you tell Major Winchester about the bet?'

"No, why?'

Kellye bit her lip. "Because he talked to Able. He bet all the nurses that no one can win in ten days. If he wins, we each pay him $10.00 and if we win, whatever woman coaxes BJ into bed, wins $100.00."

"What? Is he crazy? You all told him to go to Hell, right?"

"For what's it worth, I refused to play. But, $100.00 Hawkeye? Come on. That's a lot of money."

"I'd sleep with BJ for that," Hawkeye joked. Money, hell, I'd just love to have him in my bed. "I have to tell him, Kellye. He's got to know why everyone is hitting on him."

"Better hurry. Able was going to ask him to dinner."

Hawkeye hurried towards Post Op. BJ met him, stalking out the door, coat fluttering. "Beej!"
BJ turned and visibly relaxed. "Hey, Hawk. What's going on?"

"We have to talk." Hawkeye grabbed his arm.

"Are we running away?"

"You may want to," Hawkeye said as he hustled BJ into the empty OR. "Look, um, I don't know how to, ah, tell you this but all the nurses are going to be flirting with you."

"What?" BJ's eyes widened.

"Charles, ah, made them a bet. The first woman who gets you into bed, ah, gets $100.00."

"What?!"
Hawkeye hastily explained the bet and BJ's eyes narrowed slowly. "I'm a bet?"

"$100.00, Beej. That's not bad."

"I'm going to deck him."

"Calm down," Hawkeye advised. "Charles is just trying to aggravate you."

"And the nurses went for this?"

"Not all of them."

BJ began pacing. "Damn him! I'm not some booby prize! And I sure don't want the nurses driving me crazy. I'm not cheating on you!"

"Me?" Hawkeye blurted.

"I meant Peg. Peg and you. Oh, hell, Hawk, you know what I mean!"

Hawkeye pushed down tingles of pleasure. He batted his eyes at BJ teasingly and BJ laughed. Hawkeye grinned, thrilled to hear his best friend laugh again. BJ roughly embraced him and Hawkeye leaned against him. BJ snuggled him close, wrapping his arms around Hawkeye protectively.

Hawkeye rubbed against BJ, practically purring as BJ began rubbing his back. "God, that feels good," he sighed. BJ's hands slid under his shirt and continued rubbing. His fingers were magic, finding knots and untying them. Hawkeye arched against BJ. "Yessss..."

BJ chuckled and Hawkeye opened his eyes to find himself plastered against BJ, heat pooling in his groin. BJ winked and moved his hands slowly back to Hawkeye's shoulders. Hawkeye blushed, pulling his jacket tight around himself and wishing it was longer. Yet BJ didn't seem bothered; if anything, he seemed rather pleased. Hawkeye drew slowly away. BJ released him with a smirk.

"Come on," Hawkeye said, groin throbbing. He exhaled. "I can smelled dinner. It's liver."

"Maybe I'll skip dinner and go right for liquid refreshment."

"If we hurry, we can sit with Father Mulcahy. His presence should deter the nurses."

It didn't work. The fun and levity disappeared from BJ as soon as the first nurse touched BJ's shoulder. Ordinarily Hawkeye would have enjoyed watching his best friend squirm. Heck, usually BJ would have played along with the nurses and horsed around with the best of them. Tonight, however, with both the full moon and the wind rising, BJ stoically tolerated the teasing touches and playful nudges with a grimness he usually reserved for amputations. He didn't flinch, he didn't even fuss, he simply endured. And that passivity made Hawkeye's stomach twist, underscored no matter how normal BJ seemed, he still was different from before his run in with Flagg and Wainwright. As Lt. Lacey ran impish fingers over BJ's neck and whispered in his ear, Hawkeye dropped his gaze and saw BJ's fingers clench around his fork. The fork quivered faintly as fine trembling rocked BJ's hands. Hawkeye jerked up his head but Lacey was gone. Hawkeye glanced at Margaret. "Are you going to stop this?" he demanded.

"What?" Margaret asked.

"Your nurses' constant pawing."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"It's OK, Hawk," BJ interjected. He pushed away his tray. "Don't worry."

"It's not all right," Hawkeye snapped.

"BJ is the man of the hour," Father Mulcahy stated.

"So why do you care, Pierce?" Margaret asked, sipping her coffee and smiling. "Are you upset because it's not you?" She laid a hand on BJ and her eyes widened. "BJ, are you cold? You're trembling."

"It's a little cold." BJ finished his coffee. "I better check on Walters again." He stood and hurried off, ignoring Hawkeye's call.

"Where's Hunnicutt going?" Charles asked as he sat down. "He's green to the gills."

"What do you care?" Hawkeye snapped. "This is all your fault. Call this damn bet off."

"What bet?" Margaret asked.

"Tell her, Chuckles. About how you're turning the nurses into a harem."

"That's your dream, not mine, Pierce."

"What bet?" Margaret demanded.

"Procurer Winchester decided to see if any of the nurses would care to play temptress for BJ. He bet them a tidy sum to see if they could charm BJ out of his skivvies," Hawkeye snarled.

"You what?" Margaret yelped.

"Please, Margaret, it's nothing. Your nurses already had the betting pool. I just embellished it."

"You're encouraging BJ to break his vows?" Father Mulcahy gasped. "Major, how could you?"

"It's nothing, Father. Hunnicutt is in no danger. He is completely besotted with his little wife back home."

"My nurses are not your concubines!" Margaret huffed. "You are disgusting!"

"They don't have to play, Margaret."

"It's hard enough for people here, Major. I'm sure BJ gets lonely just as we all do. And you see nothing wrong with betting on that?"

Charles munched thoughtfully. "Not really, Father. Hunnicutt is hardly one to notice women anyway."

"It's revolting," Margaret retorted.

"What's wrong with Hunnicutt now?" Potter snapped as he came into the Mess Tent.

"What?" Hawkeye asked.

"He's sick as a dog at the latrines. What kind of rotgut is he drinking?"

"Nothing! He just ate," Hawkeye said. Potter softened and nodded.

"That explains it. Has anyone seen Klinger?" Klinger had been company clerk for a total of six weeks and it had been difficult adjusting. Radar's leaving had been bittersweet and caused some nasty repercussions.

"I saw him about an hour or so ago at the laundry," Father Mulcahy said.

"I'm going to check on BJ." Hawkeye announced. He hurried outside. Moonlight splashed the camp and he searched for the younger surgeon. It took some time but he found his friend shivering by the mine field, watching the shadows grow and the clouds scud across the moon.

"Are you coming back to the camp?" Hawkeye said.

"Maybe. I might wander off and become a farmer."

"Nah. You hate getting up early."

"I would have fresh eggs."

"You could grow crops for us." BJ snorted but a grin crossed his face. Hawkeye draped an arm over BJ's shoulders. "Come on, Beej. Let's get some sleep."

"Hawkeye, I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About the still. About hitting you..."

"BJ, enough! I know you didn't mean it! It's over. Let it go, all right?"

BJ nodded, eyes soft. They walked off towards the Swamp. BJ watched Hawkeye as they prepared for bed. The dark haired surgeon wearily stripped off his clothes and sank onto his cot. As he fell asleep, BJ quietly folded Hawkeye's clothes and picked up the medical journals. He placed the journals on the chair and pulled Hawkeye's blanket over the older man's shoulders. He made sure the tent flaps were tied down and placed Hawkeye's boots next to the stove. He carefully built up the fire in the stove and then placed another blanket over Hawkeye.

"Aren't you the little mother?"

"Be quiet, Charles," BJ hissed. He settled down in his cot.

"You're just rarely so maternal."

"He's exhausted. I'm his best friend. Now shut up and let him sleep."

BJ pulled his pillow tight against his chest. He listened as his tent mates slept. How ironic. The one Swamprat who used to love to sleep now dreads going to bed. He strained his ears. The compound was quiet except for the moaning wind. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. As sleep finally came, he curled into a fetal ball.

Hawkeye woke up, stretched. He was rather surprised that it felt late and he was warm. He muzzily yawned and looked around. "Beej?"

"He's in Post Op," came Charles' voice. "Where you should be, Pierce."

"All right, I'm going." He grabbed his clothes then blinked. He didn't remember folding his clothes nor placing clean socks on the top of the pile. He shrugged, dressed, and wiggled his toes in the warm boots. "It's warm in here."

"Hunnicutt played den mother last night. Folded your clothes, fed the stove, even tucked you in. I didn't know whether to sleep or get an insulin shot for all the sugar he spooned out."

"Maybe he's simply being considerate," Hawkeye shot back.

"He didn't fold my clothes."

"I thought you came with a maid."

Charles chuckled. "I should have."

Hawkeye pulled on his coat and headed to Post Op. Potter and BJ had their heads together over a patient, murmuring. "Good morning," Hawkeye cheerily greeted.

"The dead do live," BJ said. "Morning."

"Well, well, Pierce. Decided to show up, did you?"

"My clock didn't go off." Hawkeye stared at his bunkmate. "Strange, huh?"

BJ smiled innocently. "Things happen."

Potter shook his head. "Be glad Hunnicutt came in for you,"

Hawkeye narrowed his eyes and BJ smiled wider. "Oh, I'm very glad my bunkie is so considerate," Hawkeye said. "So what's up?"

"Jackson. Fever, uncomfortable..." As BJ spoke, he suddenly cocked his head. "Choppers." The medical team scrambled.