"Oh, Frank. Be a dear 'an fetch me my newspaper"
Despite orders of separate tents, just having Burns wait on him hand & foot was certainly worth any unfavorable outcome that may blow his way. Not even both Korea's could wipe that satisfied, irksome smirk from Pierce's face. Frank's return to base, surprisingly, didn't change matters. Then again, Henry wasn't exactly the ambitious type when it came to following through on complaints further than he had to. As long as there were no upsets, things were on the up and up. Frank swiftly flashes a death glare.
"I'm not your "dear", buddy. Fetch your own pap-"
"-Nuh-uh-uh, Frank (He accentuates this with a wagging finger) Remember our deal? Not until the end of the pregnancy"
The Major let out an exaggerated, loud sigh. Snatching the rolled up paper off the far table and thrusting it in Hawkeye's hand. His nostrils momentarily flaring as he gave a sniff, almost like pondering on what stupid thing he should say next. A sparse brow raises, as he walks away.
"So when you havin' that thing anyway?"
Just like Frank to jump from the frying pan into the fire. But to be fair, his own childhood wasn't exactly painted with rainbows and puppies.
"I'll kindly have you retract calling my child a "thing". After all, remember who the mother is"
His thin lips purse in frustration. Hell, at this point, the base he escaped from wasn't looking half bad. Burns gives a low grumble.
"Ugh..sorry, look. I hafta check on a patient. So, unless there's anything else, I'm lea-"
"-Glad you asked. My feet are killin' me (propping his bare feet on a small crate, like an ottoman). Time to put those surgeon hands to use, Frank"
"I just can't imagine Frank rubbin' yer feet"
Trapper burst into laughter. Hawkeye brings his martini glass of orange juice to his lips and takes a sip.
"Believe it, pal. The man has magic hands"
Back at Blake's office. The eccentric, cross-dressing Corporal took advantage of Hawkeye's condition. Hoping, he too, could claim the head nurse knocked him up. Thereby, securing his Section 8 discharge, or, at least he thought.
"Sir, I need to get this off my chest. Nurse Houlihan's insatiable. After she did the deed with Captain Pierce, (tone switches to feign dramatics)..she..defiled me as well"
Henry looks on, completely unamused. Rolling his eyes, as Klinger proceeds in throwing open his long, black coat in a grandiose manner, similar to his tone. To reveal what was nothing more than a large pillow, jammed up underneath his black & white spotted frock. Henry lets out an exasperated sigh.
"For Pete's sake, Klinger. For one, you're obviously not pregnant. 'An for two, women can't get pregnant"
The Corporal swiftly wraps the coat back around him, a dramatic gasp soon follows.
"Sir, I am outraged. How dare you speak of Maxwell Quinton-Hakim-Aatazaz Klinger Jr. that way!"
Henry groans and makes his way over to the liquor cabinet. Pouring himself the stiffest drink possible. It was any wonder he wasn't an alcoholic, with all the asinine nonsense he had to deal with on a daily basis. He takes a large gulp, finally deciding to drop the unfortunate news to Klinger.
"Hate to tell ya this, Klinger. But, like I told Pierce. Pregnancy isn't a clincher to be sent home"
He raises his large-beaked nose in the air and gives an indignant huff, turning high-heel and leaving. Just as he reached the doors, the pillow lost its hold and fell between his pronounced, hairy legs. Yet again, Klinger gasps. Henry, meanwhile, taking another large slug. The Corporal now getting into the theatrics, gently lifting the pink embroidered pillow, wiping away the fake tears with his white gloved hand.
"Sir..it..its a girl!"
Trap and Hawkeye return to the Swamp, absolutely exhausted. Of course, Pierce's duties were lightened. He'd put in a couple hours before sitting out for a few, then, resume. He didn't even have the energy to summon his errand boy. Which was a shame, both the Surgeons would benefit from someone else doing their bidding.
Trapper takes a sip from his martini glass and glances across the tent to the crib. He smiles.
"Ya have any names picked out yet?"
Pierce was stretched across his cot. Eyes lazily observing every little movement his son made. Suddenly, his entire stomach shifted. It was as much bizarre as it were awe-inspiring. He exhales rather shakily, between chuckling. His hand immediately landing on the area where the baby had moved. How he even had the room to do so, Hawkeye would never know.
"I'm thinkin' either Paul or..if it is a girl..Paula Bunyan"
Trap laughs from behind his martini glass, and takes another sip.
"Hey, one Helluva lumberjack, that guy"
Suddenly, the Captain's whipping boy appears. Much to Trapper's displeasure. He mutters under his breath, "an here comes the lumber jackass."
"Pierce, here's those chocolates you were whinin' about earlier"
Chucking a clear bag of sweets and it landing in the crook of the Captain's arm. Trapper, ever vigilant, not taking his eyes off the little weasel.
"Thank you, Frank. (He pops a chocolate into his mouth) You're free to go now"
Frank scoffs like a spoiled child and departs. Trapper refills his glass, settling down in the chair next to Pierce.
"Gotta say, Hawk. I don't think I'm too keen on havin' him back here"
He laments, taking yet another sip. The Surgeon smirks, fishing around the bag for another chocolatey piece of heaven, then replies.
"I know, Trap. But he's still in 'ah separate tent, plus! Even he knows not to try anything. 'An if he does, the next place he winds up will make Galmae-Dong look like a daycare"