What if There's No Tomorrow?
By: Brenna "Snakelady" Dawkins
A MASH fanfic
Rating: PG13 Disclaimer: 20th Century Fox owns the rights to MASH. I've made no profit from this fic.
Summary: Radar wrestles with his feelings towards a certain cross-dressing gypsy. My first MASHslash! Klinger/Radar
Radar clung to his teddy bear in a death grip. He'd had that dream again. The one where he was lost and alone in the dark and ducking fire coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. He woke in a sweat, even though it was deep winter and the furnace had blown earlier that day. It was ice cold in his meager quarters, it was also dark, and worse, he was alone. Again. At least he wasn't getting shot at. He heard the fabric in his bear protest and he slackened his death grip.
There was no sound to be heard in the compound. So it was easy to let your imagination get away with you if you let it. Radar didn't want to let it, but his will power was somewhat lacking. One wouldn't think a simple farm boy out of Iowa would harbor any demons at all, but this one did.
People assumed unassuming meant innocent. But Radar knew better. Unfortunately, he knew too well. He trembled still from the terror of the dream, but he'd rather the dream then those unwanted thoughts that persisted. Ignoring them never seemed to work. In fact, it seemed to make his nightmares all that much worse and much more persistent. He turned over, hugging his bear to his chest. Just let him get through the night without going down that road. He began to try to divert his mind by working on the duty roster. It worked, up to a certain point and he let that wasted exercise drop as his cheeks reddened. Impossible!
He knew if he'd do anything about it, he'd be mocked and seen as childish and he'd never be able to live it down. It wasn't even anything he could go to the Father about either. So he was stuck to deal with it his own way. He'd rather not have to deal with it at all.
The next day, luckily was too hectic to have to worry about extraneous stuff, like thinking things about fellow enlistee's that one really shouldn't think about. An ambulance full of wounded disgorged its contents into the OR and he and everyone else in the 4077th had their hands literally full. His family back home would truly be horrified by what he'd seen and what he had to endure there in Korea, his family could never possibly fathom just how truly terrible and traumatic war was. How war changed a person, made them wonder if there might ever be a next day to have to worry about. Made them seem to make petty things blown all out of proportion because that's what war did to folks. Blow everything out of everything else, leaving a big old, messed up hole that you were afraid to peer into. Radar had been forced to peer into many holes, and never liked what he saw, least of all, the one in himself. The one he refused to acknowledge. And instead of fixing that hole, instead of filling it and healing it, he covered it up, hoping if he ignored it long enough, he'd forget the hole was there... forget that there was something wrong with him.
But as luck would have it, the one person he'd been avoiding all day without seeming to was ordered to help him gather up the laundry after all the efforts in the OR was said and done.
"But I tend to mix darks and lights, I'm not a laundromat." Radar protested as he helped Klinger gather the rest of the discarded linens and scrubs.
Klinger tossed a full laundry bag at him and Radar almost lost his balance in catching it, "Laundry service wasn't in my contract either, kid. Welcome to the war." The gypsy hefted his laundry bag over his own shoulder and grunted, "They'll be lighter once we get all the blood washed out. Come on, Radar."
But Radar's complaint wasn't over the fact that he had to play washerwoman. His objection was a lame effort to cover up his distress at being in close quarters with the rather large-nosed Lebanese. It terrified him. He liked girls. He got all the right stirrings in all the right places when certain nurses passed by him or talked to him. Which only confused him all the more when he discovered he got those strange stirrings whenever Klinger was near. Disillusioned and disgusted with himself, Radar silently followed the fellow Corporal. This wasn't happening to him, he lied to himself.
Was it because of all those dresses Klinger had a tendency to wear? Sometimes, the man wore them rather well, if you ignored all the hair in places there should be no hair. Sometimes, he displayed more femininity then the female nurses at camp. So, was that why he lately looked at Klinger with longing? Sure, he'd never gotten further then second base with a couple of girls, so maybe all this trouble was stemming from the fact that he just wasn't experienced enough? Was that it? He caught himself staring at the back of the cross-dressing Lebanese. A flush crept over his cheeks and he angrily stared down at his feet, concentrating on putting one in front of the other.
Just because Klinger dressed like a girl, didn't mean anything. He knew for a fact that Klinger liked women. There was no way Klinger could be attracted to a guy. Least of all him, an ignorant farm boy who felt more at home behind a plow then a desk. That train of thought made him feel inexplicably glum. With all the terror and craziness surrounding them, all he could find to be worried about was whether or not Klinger liked him. Maybe... maybe he was just going crazy. Yes, that was more applicable.
"Klinger, I think I've been here too long."
Klinger didn't slow his stride, "Come again, Radar?"
"This place, do you think that craziness is... catching?"
Klinger snorted, still at his brusque pace, Radar close behind, "Of course! You HAVE to sink down to the war's level to even survive here. You think a sane person'd wear garters and fishnet stockings to the OR? Just say the word and that section 8 is mine!"
But even Radar knew better. Klinger wasn't crazy. Maybe desperate, maybe unabashed, but... not crazy, at least, not in the usual way. Despite the dresses and crazy plots, despite the lies and obsessive need to accessorize, there was something very sane about a strong desire to leave this place.
"Why, you bucking for a section 8 too? Need any pointers?" Klinger wondered as they arrived at the unit laundry.
Radar shook his head. He was suddenly very aware that he and Klinger were all alone together. "You're still here, aren't you?" He referred to all Klinger's failed plans.
Klinger shrugged, "Someday, Radar, someday. Now, let's get this mind- numbing task over with, huh? We still got other mind-numbing tasks that await our attention today after this."
They worked together, tossing the scrubs into the machines. Radar kept his eyes on his hands, though they threatened many times to wander over to where Klinger labored. He wished that pleasant feeling he got when he thought of the Corporal wasn't so pleasant. He wished that he could stop thinking about the Corporal for an entire day. He wished the Corporal would grab him up in his strong, hairy arms, draw him in close and... NO! He DIDN'T wish for that!
"Hey, Radar, you're wringing the hell outta that scrub." Klinger observed.
Radar looked down at his hands... the garment he was holding was wrung tighter then a spring, kinda the way he felt. He threw the garment into the mouth of the washing unit wordlessly and continued to sort through the bloody mess. Klinger gave him a moments glance.
"What's wrong, kid? You okay?"
"I'm fine. Just fine." Radar lied but inside he was screaming, no, I'm not! Would I be fine if I was thinking impure thoughts about you?
"Come on, Radar, you can tell me. We're like family, ya know." Klinger said kindly and stopped at his task, turning to the younger Corporal.
Radar slightly shrank away and wished he was anywhere but there in the laundry room with the scandalous Klinger.
"Radar... "but he fell silent and he sensed no amount of cajoling would gain him any further information. Something was definitely bothering the man. "Okay, okay. So you don't want to talk about it. I can take the hint. But if you ever do..." he went back to work and so did Radar. They finished their task in strained silence and left in same.
Radar escaped back to the relative safety of his office. He buried himself in paperwork. It was one of the few times when he didn't have to worry about his problem. If there was something he was really good at, it was making sure all the paperwork that came in the place found it's proper resting place. It wasn't that hard, but it was time consuming.
Night rolled in again. He tossed and turned in his bunk, his teddy bear his only companion. The dream came again. Full force and full of fright. He woke up, breathing harshly and clutching his bear desperately, wishing it was really someone else there comforting him. Why was he torturing himself like this? Was he being punished for something? The dream, vivid and fresh in his mind, refused to release him. He sat up in his bunk, and tried to calm his heart. Maybe if he thought of something else... his mind wandered to his time in the laundry. Why didn't he talk to Klinger? Klinger had offered him a chance to get his problem off of his chest. Yeah, right! If he'd've told Klinger right then and there just how he felt, he'd, well... Radar felt the blush rise back to his cheeks. Well, his mind was successfully off his nightmare and was now firmly placed on his daymare. How in the world was he going to get Klinger off his mind? He lay back in his bunk and found sleep was not a possibility, so he just lay there.
The next day, Radar was in the storage room, looking for paperclips. In clacked Klinger, in his dainty high heels and tweed one piece, carrying a crate of supplies.
"More grapes for the grapes of wrath!" Klinger announced.
But Radar found himself nearly immobile with the intrusion of the other Corporal.
"Geeze, Radar, you look whiter then camel's milk. Not taking your vitamins, kid?"
Why'd he always have to call him 'kid'? Did Klinger think he really was just some immature, wet behind the ears bumpkin, not worth the fleas off a camel's back? "I'm not a kid, ya know!" Radar said hotly.
Klinger raised an eyebrow, not expecting that sort of response, "Hey, you know, it was JUST a term of endurance... Radar."
Radar blinked. Of course it was. He ducked his head down, feeling stupid. "Sorry." He mumbled.
Klinger sat his crate down and walked around to stand in front of his friend. "What's eating you, Radar? You've been acting... squirrelly the past two days. Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?"
Radar was staring at his shoes. They needed a new coat of polish, he noticed absently. "No. I'm... not mad at you. You did nothing wrong. I'm mad at me. I'm doing everything wrong." What was he doing? Confessing to Klinger? He really was crazy! He felt a hand on his shoulder and swallowed. Did Klinger have to touch him like that? Did he have to act all concerned like that? He was still staring at his unpolished shoes.
"What are you talking about? Hey, you want to bring in Sigmund? Bet he'd fix you right up quick."
Radar violently shook his head. NO! No one was going to know! No one was going to know how he felt about Klinger! Not even... Klinger! His heart was pounding so very loudly, did the other man suspect?
Klinger sighed, "Look, Radar, this place... it turns on you, makes everyone feel a little... out of sorts."
What did he mean by that? Radar wondered. He surely couldn't mean... him too? That'd be ludicrous, as Charles would say.
"Makes you feel like you shouldn't back out of any chance you get to do something you've always wanted to do, because... because you never know if there will be a tomorrow for you. Sometimes I lie in my bunk and wonder if the next time I get shipped home will it be in a body bag? It's too terrifying to think about. So I don't spend time thinking about it, I spend time thinking on how to get outta here. That's not crazy, is it?"
Radar looked up at Klinger and met those dark, brown eyes of his. He shook his head.
"You aren't crazy, Radar. You are probably the sanest person in this joint."
"Nice of you to say." Radar said in a small voice. He couldn't keep from looking into those eyes. What the other man had said... about no tomorrow... taking chances... you never knew... what would happen. Maybe they'd all be blown up and there'd be nothing left but one of those hated holes tomorrow... and he'd never have had the chance to let Klinger know just how he felt about him. He didn't want that. "Klinger... you're a good guy."
Klinger smiled, "Thanks, Radar. Are you feeling any better?"
"I mean, you're a really good guy. You'd be a great catch."
Radar liked the way Klinger's eyes lit up even more at his compliment. He liked the fact that he was responsible for that.
"Do you like me?"
Klinger patted Radar on his shoulder, his hand still resting there, "Of course I like you!"
"Would I... be a good catch?" He floundered around for a way to come out and let Klinger know just what was on his mind. He couldn't do it.
"What, do you have to fish for compliments just to get some attention or something? Come on, you're a great kid!"
Radar's joy wilted somewhat when he used that word 'kid' again. He was at a complete loss. This wasn't going to work. It wasn't going to happen. He still had time to wriggle out of this mess before it got into a situation that was really, really bad. He could still walk away from this conversation with his head held high...
What if tomorrow never comes? He wondered again.
"Klinger... I like you."
"You said that already, Radar."
"I mean, I like you... LIKE you, like you. A... a lot."
Radar saw the confusion behind those brown eyes and then a click as what he said registered. There was a long, drawn out, distressing silence as they stared at each other. Radar wondered what the Corporal would say. Would he laugh? Would he be horrified? Would he... he couldn't bear the anticipation.
"Um, Radar, you DO know the dresses are just a rues, right?" Klinger wanted to know.
Radar nodded then hung his head. He was so humiliated! Of course Klinger wouldn't like him that way! He WAS just some stupid country bumpkin who couldn't even keep his boots polished or his hormones in the proper place! He felt a callused finger under his chin and raise it up so he was again staring into those beautiful brown eyes. His own were welling with the beginnings of tears.
"Hey, is this what all that was about?" Klinger asked.
Why'd he even have to ask? Radar thought annoyed and heartsick. What in the world ELSE could it have been about?
"Well... all kidding aside, I know I'm not that great looking a guy, Radar, really... so, why me? I'm just curious."
"I don't know." Radar said, almost breathless in his despair. "I just... you're all I have been able to think about in the longest while. I know it's wrong, I tried to stop it. I'm sorry I said anything!"
Klinger shook his head. "It's not wrong, for cryin' out loud, Radar. Whatever gave you THAT idea?"
"The army says it's wrong! The church says it's wrong! My mom says it's wrong!"
"You gonna tell 'em?"
Horrified, Radar shook his head negative.
"Then it's none of their business!"
Huh? Radar blinked and sniffed. What was that again?
"Look, Radar, if anything goes on between us, it's BETWEEN US! No one else, got it?"
Bewildered, Radar stared, then nodded silently, still trying to digest what this implied. Was Klinger... finding something mutual there? He hadn't run off screaming. Hadn't lectured him on how disgusting the very idea was. He stared into those eyes, fearing... everything. If it was mutual... the very idea was both pleasing and frightening at the same time. He had no idea what he'd do with Klinger if they were... together.
Klinger smiled softly. "I don't let just anyone lift my skirts, Radar. You lucky dog."
Radar laughed nervously and managed a timid smile. "You need to be anywhere in the next hour?"
Klinger drew Radar in close, "Sure do!" He said brightly and that mischievous grin that Radar knew and loved so well spread across his face, "Right here!"
The End
By: Brenna "Snakelady" Dawkins
A MASH fanfic
Rating: PG13 Disclaimer: 20th Century Fox owns the rights to MASH. I've made no profit from this fic.
Summary: Radar wrestles with his feelings towards a certain cross-dressing gypsy. My first MASHslash! Klinger/Radar
Radar clung to his teddy bear in a death grip. He'd had that dream again. The one where he was lost and alone in the dark and ducking fire coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. He woke in a sweat, even though it was deep winter and the furnace had blown earlier that day. It was ice cold in his meager quarters, it was also dark, and worse, he was alone. Again. At least he wasn't getting shot at. He heard the fabric in his bear protest and he slackened his death grip.
There was no sound to be heard in the compound. So it was easy to let your imagination get away with you if you let it. Radar didn't want to let it, but his will power was somewhat lacking. One wouldn't think a simple farm boy out of Iowa would harbor any demons at all, but this one did.
People assumed unassuming meant innocent. But Radar knew better. Unfortunately, he knew too well. He trembled still from the terror of the dream, but he'd rather the dream then those unwanted thoughts that persisted. Ignoring them never seemed to work. In fact, it seemed to make his nightmares all that much worse and much more persistent. He turned over, hugging his bear to his chest. Just let him get through the night without going down that road. He began to try to divert his mind by working on the duty roster. It worked, up to a certain point and he let that wasted exercise drop as his cheeks reddened. Impossible!
He knew if he'd do anything about it, he'd be mocked and seen as childish and he'd never be able to live it down. It wasn't even anything he could go to the Father about either. So he was stuck to deal with it his own way. He'd rather not have to deal with it at all.
The next day, luckily was too hectic to have to worry about extraneous stuff, like thinking things about fellow enlistee's that one really shouldn't think about. An ambulance full of wounded disgorged its contents into the OR and he and everyone else in the 4077th had their hands literally full. His family back home would truly be horrified by what he'd seen and what he had to endure there in Korea, his family could never possibly fathom just how truly terrible and traumatic war was. How war changed a person, made them wonder if there might ever be a next day to have to worry about. Made them seem to make petty things blown all out of proportion because that's what war did to folks. Blow everything out of everything else, leaving a big old, messed up hole that you were afraid to peer into. Radar had been forced to peer into many holes, and never liked what he saw, least of all, the one in himself. The one he refused to acknowledge. And instead of fixing that hole, instead of filling it and healing it, he covered it up, hoping if he ignored it long enough, he'd forget the hole was there... forget that there was something wrong with him.
But as luck would have it, the one person he'd been avoiding all day without seeming to was ordered to help him gather up the laundry after all the efforts in the OR was said and done.
"But I tend to mix darks and lights, I'm not a laundromat." Radar protested as he helped Klinger gather the rest of the discarded linens and scrubs.
Klinger tossed a full laundry bag at him and Radar almost lost his balance in catching it, "Laundry service wasn't in my contract either, kid. Welcome to the war." The gypsy hefted his laundry bag over his own shoulder and grunted, "They'll be lighter once we get all the blood washed out. Come on, Radar."
But Radar's complaint wasn't over the fact that he had to play washerwoman. His objection was a lame effort to cover up his distress at being in close quarters with the rather large-nosed Lebanese. It terrified him. He liked girls. He got all the right stirrings in all the right places when certain nurses passed by him or talked to him. Which only confused him all the more when he discovered he got those strange stirrings whenever Klinger was near. Disillusioned and disgusted with himself, Radar silently followed the fellow Corporal. This wasn't happening to him, he lied to himself.
Was it because of all those dresses Klinger had a tendency to wear? Sometimes, the man wore them rather well, if you ignored all the hair in places there should be no hair. Sometimes, he displayed more femininity then the female nurses at camp. So, was that why he lately looked at Klinger with longing? Sure, he'd never gotten further then second base with a couple of girls, so maybe all this trouble was stemming from the fact that he just wasn't experienced enough? Was that it? He caught himself staring at the back of the cross-dressing Lebanese. A flush crept over his cheeks and he angrily stared down at his feet, concentrating on putting one in front of the other.
Just because Klinger dressed like a girl, didn't mean anything. He knew for a fact that Klinger liked women. There was no way Klinger could be attracted to a guy. Least of all him, an ignorant farm boy who felt more at home behind a plow then a desk. That train of thought made him feel inexplicably glum. With all the terror and craziness surrounding them, all he could find to be worried about was whether or not Klinger liked him. Maybe... maybe he was just going crazy. Yes, that was more applicable.
"Klinger, I think I've been here too long."
Klinger didn't slow his stride, "Come again, Radar?"
"This place, do you think that craziness is... catching?"
Klinger snorted, still at his brusque pace, Radar close behind, "Of course! You HAVE to sink down to the war's level to even survive here. You think a sane person'd wear garters and fishnet stockings to the OR? Just say the word and that section 8 is mine!"
But even Radar knew better. Klinger wasn't crazy. Maybe desperate, maybe unabashed, but... not crazy, at least, not in the usual way. Despite the dresses and crazy plots, despite the lies and obsessive need to accessorize, there was something very sane about a strong desire to leave this place.
"Why, you bucking for a section 8 too? Need any pointers?" Klinger wondered as they arrived at the unit laundry.
Radar shook his head. He was suddenly very aware that he and Klinger were all alone together. "You're still here, aren't you?" He referred to all Klinger's failed plans.
Klinger shrugged, "Someday, Radar, someday. Now, let's get this mind- numbing task over with, huh? We still got other mind-numbing tasks that await our attention today after this."
They worked together, tossing the scrubs into the machines. Radar kept his eyes on his hands, though they threatened many times to wander over to where Klinger labored. He wished that pleasant feeling he got when he thought of the Corporal wasn't so pleasant. He wished that he could stop thinking about the Corporal for an entire day. He wished the Corporal would grab him up in his strong, hairy arms, draw him in close and... NO! He DIDN'T wish for that!
"Hey, Radar, you're wringing the hell outta that scrub." Klinger observed.
Radar looked down at his hands... the garment he was holding was wrung tighter then a spring, kinda the way he felt. He threw the garment into the mouth of the washing unit wordlessly and continued to sort through the bloody mess. Klinger gave him a moments glance.
"What's wrong, kid? You okay?"
"I'm fine. Just fine." Radar lied but inside he was screaming, no, I'm not! Would I be fine if I was thinking impure thoughts about you?
"Come on, Radar, you can tell me. We're like family, ya know." Klinger said kindly and stopped at his task, turning to the younger Corporal.
Radar slightly shrank away and wished he was anywhere but there in the laundry room with the scandalous Klinger.
"Radar... "but he fell silent and he sensed no amount of cajoling would gain him any further information. Something was definitely bothering the man. "Okay, okay. So you don't want to talk about it. I can take the hint. But if you ever do..." he went back to work and so did Radar. They finished their task in strained silence and left in same.
Radar escaped back to the relative safety of his office. He buried himself in paperwork. It was one of the few times when he didn't have to worry about his problem. If there was something he was really good at, it was making sure all the paperwork that came in the place found it's proper resting place. It wasn't that hard, but it was time consuming.
Night rolled in again. He tossed and turned in his bunk, his teddy bear his only companion. The dream came again. Full force and full of fright. He woke up, breathing harshly and clutching his bear desperately, wishing it was really someone else there comforting him. Why was he torturing himself like this? Was he being punished for something? The dream, vivid and fresh in his mind, refused to release him. He sat up in his bunk, and tried to calm his heart. Maybe if he thought of something else... his mind wandered to his time in the laundry. Why didn't he talk to Klinger? Klinger had offered him a chance to get his problem off of his chest. Yeah, right! If he'd've told Klinger right then and there just how he felt, he'd, well... Radar felt the blush rise back to his cheeks. Well, his mind was successfully off his nightmare and was now firmly placed on his daymare. How in the world was he going to get Klinger off his mind? He lay back in his bunk and found sleep was not a possibility, so he just lay there.
The next day, Radar was in the storage room, looking for paperclips. In clacked Klinger, in his dainty high heels and tweed one piece, carrying a crate of supplies.
"More grapes for the grapes of wrath!" Klinger announced.
But Radar found himself nearly immobile with the intrusion of the other Corporal.
"Geeze, Radar, you look whiter then camel's milk. Not taking your vitamins, kid?"
Why'd he always have to call him 'kid'? Did Klinger think he really was just some immature, wet behind the ears bumpkin, not worth the fleas off a camel's back? "I'm not a kid, ya know!" Radar said hotly.
Klinger raised an eyebrow, not expecting that sort of response, "Hey, you know, it was JUST a term of endurance... Radar."
Radar blinked. Of course it was. He ducked his head down, feeling stupid. "Sorry." He mumbled.
Klinger sat his crate down and walked around to stand in front of his friend. "What's eating you, Radar? You've been acting... squirrelly the past two days. Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?"
Radar was staring at his shoes. They needed a new coat of polish, he noticed absently. "No. I'm... not mad at you. You did nothing wrong. I'm mad at me. I'm doing everything wrong." What was he doing? Confessing to Klinger? He really was crazy! He felt a hand on his shoulder and swallowed. Did Klinger have to touch him like that? Did he have to act all concerned like that? He was still staring at his unpolished shoes.
"What are you talking about? Hey, you want to bring in Sigmund? Bet he'd fix you right up quick."
Radar violently shook his head. NO! No one was going to know! No one was going to know how he felt about Klinger! Not even... Klinger! His heart was pounding so very loudly, did the other man suspect?
Klinger sighed, "Look, Radar, this place... it turns on you, makes everyone feel a little... out of sorts."
What did he mean by that? Radar wondered. He surely couldn't mean... him too? That'd be ludicrous, as Charles would say.
"Makes you feel like you shouldn't back out of any chance you get to do something you've always wanted to do, because... because you never know if there will be a tomorrow for you. Sometimes I lie in my bunk and wonder if the next time I get shipped home will it be in a body bag? It's too terrifying to think about. So I don't spend time thinking about it, I spend time thinking on how to get outta here. That's not crazy, is it?"
Radar looked up at Klinger and met those dark, brown eyes of his. He shook his head.
"You aren't crazy, Radar. You are probably the sanest person in this joint."
"Nice of you to say." Radar said in a small voice. He couldn't keep from looking into those eyes. What the other man had said... about no tomorrow... taking chances... you never knew... what would happen. Maybe they'd all be blown up and there'd be nothing left but one of those hated holes tomorrow... and he'd never have had the chance to let Klinger know just how he felt about him. He didn't want that. "Klinger... you're a good guy."
Klinger smiled, "Thanks, Radar. Are you feeling any better?"
"I mean, you're a really good guy. You'd be a great catch."
Radar liked the way Klinger's eyes lit up even more at his compliment. He liked the fact that he was responsible for that.
"Do you like me?"
Klinger patted Radar on his shoulder, his hand still resting there, "Of course I like you!"
"Would I... be a good catch?" He floundered around for a way to come out and let Klinger know just what was on his mind. He couldn't do it.
"What, do you have to fish for compliments just to get some attention or something? Come on, you're a great kid!"
Radar's joy wilted somewhat when he used that word 'kid' again. He was at a complete loss. This wasn't going to work. It wasn't going to happen. He still had time to wriggle out of this mess before it got into a situation that was really, really bad. He could still walk away from this conversation with his head held high...
What if tomorrow never comes? He wondered again.
"Klinger... I like you."
"You said that already, Radar."
"I mean, I like you... LIKE you, like you. A... a lot."
Radar saw the confusion behind those brown eyes and then a click as what he said registered. There was a long, drawn out, distressing silence as they stared at each other. Radar wondered what the Corporal would say. Would he laugh? Would he be horrified? Would he... he couldn't bear the anticipation.
"Um, Radar, you DO know the dresses are just a rues, right?" Klinger wanted to know.
Radar nodded then hung his head. He was so humiliated! Of course Klinger wouldn't like him that way! He WAS just some stupid country bumpkin who couldn't even keep his boots polished or his hormones in the proper place! He felt a callused finger under his chin and raise it up so he was again staring into those beautiful brown eyes. His own were welling with the beginnings of tears.
"Hey, is this what all that was about?" Klinger asked.
Why'd he even have to ask? Radar thought annoyed and heartsick. What in the world ELSE could it have been about?
"Well... all kidding aside, I know I'm not that great looking a guy, Radar, really... so, why me? I'm just curious."
"I don't know." Radar said, almost breathless in his despair. "I just... you're all I have been able to think about in the longest while. I know it's wrong, I tried to stop it. I'm sorry I said anything!"
Klinger shook his head. "It's not wrong, for cryin' out loud, Radar. Whatever gave you THAT idea?"
"The army says it's wrong! The church says it's wrong! My mom says it's wrong!"
"You gonna tell 'em?"
Horrified, Radar shook his head negative.
"Then it's none of their business!"
Huh? Radar blinked and sniffed. What was that again?
"Look, Radar, if anything goes on between us, it's BETWEEN US! No one else, got it?"
Bewildered, Radar stared, then nodded silently, still trying to digest what this implied. Was Klinger... finding something mutual there? He hadn't run off screaming. Hadn't lectured him on how disgusting the very idea was. He stared into those eyes, fearing... everything. If it was mutual... the very idea was both pleasing and frightening at the same time. He had no idea what he'd do with Klinger if they were... together.
Klinger smiled softly. "I don't let just anyone lift my skirts, Radar. You lucky dog."
Radar laughed nervously and managed a timid smile. "You need to be anywhere in the next hour?"
Klinger drew Radar in close, "Sure do!" He said brightly and that mischievous grin that Radar knew and loved so well spread across his face, "Right here!"
The End