Title: Distracted by …
Author: Lisa M
Pairing: BJ/Hawkeye
Rating: Sergeant - possibly borderline Captain
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything. Don't sue … no money.
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know.
Feedback: Would be appreciated - good or bad.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Just like home … almost.
A/N: A response to the 10-min. fic challenge of "fireworks". Just over 10 minutes this time.
The Fourth of July in Korea. It really wasn't that much different here than it was in the states. There'd be horseshoes and baseball. Hotdogs and corn on the cob and watermelon. Beer and music. All the trappings of home. The whole nine yards. Take away the tents and the jeeps and the ever-present threat of death, and you could almost - almost - imagine you were back there. Not here.
And when the sun set, bright colors would light up the sky. Purples, blues, greens, reds. A rainbow of hues followed by the requisite "oooohhhh's" and "aaaahhh's". Friends holding each other, sparklers in hand, wondering at the beauty of the spectacle occurring above their heads.
Amid the merriment, no one questioned when a very drunk BJ Hunnicutt grabbed an equally drunk Hawkeye Pierce and pulled him, laughing, down into his lap. Or, moments later, when they both stood, quietly excusing themselves, and departed the festivities - heading for the Swamp, arms wrapped around each other. How they were holding on a little bit tighter than was necessary to assist someone back to their tent after a long day of drinking. Not one set of eyes noticed the older doctor jerking open the door to their tent so quickly that he almost pulled it off its hinges. Or the younger doctor removing his sweat-soaked shirt before following his friend into the darkness of their 'home'.
The non-stop percussion from the colorful sky-show masked the sounds occurring beneath it.
The whistle of zippers as they were lowered quickly. The rustling of clothes being removed, then the shushing of them as they are discarded, without thought, to the floor. The metallic clink of dog tags connecting. The creaking of an Army cot as it struggled to support the weight of the two grown men who threw themselves, with abandon, onto it. The wet sound of sweaty bodies moving together.
The quiet whispers that grew louder and more passionate as each minute passed. The panting for air and hissing of breath. The begging and pleading for more. And finally, the strangled biting back of names that couldn't be screamed into the night air.
No one questioned their whereabouts when they finally returned to the party. Nor were they asked about their disheveled appearance. Did anyone notice they were gone? Had they even been missed?
No.
See, that was the beauty of the human mind. How quickly it could be distracted. How easily it was manipulated to see what it needed to see - or to not see what it shouldn't. It could be distracted by so many things. Tonight, for those within the camp - and for those who benefited from it - it just happened to be fireworks.