(A/N: This will eventually be a chaptered, yet rather short story. More block-issues with the last chapter of Henry... Enjoy... and REVIEW!)
When Hawkeye was bored... everybody knew it.
Lately, with an all-too-infrequent lull in wounded soldiers, there had been a rash of practical jokes - including one involving an actual rash. Frank was in Margaret's tent, no doubt letting her aid in the icing-down of some swollen bodypart or another.
"Pierce, I'm trying to work. Now get out!"
It must have been the hundredth time in the last three days that Hawkeye had been into Potter's office to start up some meaningless conversation, to make a rude or indecent suggestion about the way the camp was run (Such as nurse shower schedules), or just to wreak havoc in general. Or to wreak havoc on Generals.
Radar was hiding under his desk.
"No no, Colonel, it's really important this time!"
"Like it was important when you wanted permission to set all the clocks back four hours, just for fun?"
"Really, it IS important!"
"Fine, siddown and shut up. You can have a minute of my time, but not a bit longer-"
Hawkeye was already seated, his bloodstained army boots resting on the edge of Potter's desk as he sipped at a glass of brandy. Colonel Potter rolled his eyes.
"Now what's so all-fired important that you've got to interrupt my paperwork? I-Corps needs this in two days, and..."
"Colonel," Hawkeye interrupted, swirling his brandy. "You've got a plan for any type of emergency that might ever hit this camp, right?"
"Just about."
"Well, I just need to know - not up to date on military protocol and such..."
"What IS it?"
Hawkeye looked totally serious. "What do we do if the aliens land?"