The Real Question
It was some late hour of the night when Charles had finally turned off his lamp, tired of waiting for the other two denizens of the Swamp to stumble their way in when he had begun to hear the raucous sounds of the very two he had been waiting up for. They were singing some form of song, loudly enough that he could tell they were singing, but not clear enough to insinuate that they were any bit close to the Swamp itself.
There was a bit of a debate of if he should force himself back to sleep or rouse himself and guide the men to their beds. He presumed they were having another late night boozing and he was not up for cleaning them off the floor in the morning. Or dealing with the chance of one of them puking and sleeping in it all night. Knowing them, if they were left to their own devices that would be exactly what would happen. Upon arriving on the decision to be a good friend and 'gently' help the two drunks into their beds, he flipped on the lamp once more and sat up. He slipped his legs over the edge and shivered at the cold feel of the wooden floor.
As they got closer, he could hear bits and pieces of their song. "He has just ran out of women, he is breaking out the wine..." He started humming to drown them out. Whatever it was, odds were it was a slurred, perverted song that he just wasn't in the mood to listen to; especially since if they knew they had a listening audience they would sing it all night.
After some time Hawkeye and BJ stumbled in. They also happened to be wearing nothing but their underwear. Of course, for Charles, seeing either Hawkeye or BJ in their underwear was a daily occurence; after all, the three of them did live together in the same tent. There wasn't a scrap of privacy.
"Chaaaaaaaaarles!" Hawkeye slurred at him, blearily pointing, almost falling down as he was now only holding onto BJ with one hand. "What are you doin'. . . up?" He hesitated as he tried to find the word he wanted, eventually just spitting it out with a pointless urgency.
"I could say the same to you two gentlemen." Charles eyed the two, wondering where in the world they happened to lose all of their clothing on the way over from either Rosie's or the Officer's club. "Are you two aware that you are missing your clothes?"
BJ laughed for a moment before lurching over to Charles and flopping down into a sort of sitting position. Then he lost his balance and ended up leaning on Charles, resting his chin on the man's shoulder. "Uh-huh. We took 'em off."
He resisted the urge to fling the drunken man off of him, instead humoring and trying to read when the two would pass out. When they were out as a light he would throw the two in their respective bunks. "And why would you ever do that?"
As if on cue, Hawkeye mimicked BJ, collapsing on Charles' bunk and resting his chin on his shoulder. "I think the reeeal question here, Chuck... is why wouldn't we!" He proceeded to giggle like a drunken madman; of which he actually was. Usually he was just a sober madman, or a slightly drunken madman.
He was now trapped, on either side, by two drunken surgeons. Two drunken tent-mates. Two drunken friends. All and all, it felt rather typical. He grinned to the two men, knowing that in the morning they probably wouldn't remember a single thing. "I'll ask you in the morning. Now, how about you both get some sleep? We'll talk about anything you both desire when you wake." He spoke softly, doing his best to convince the two men that he was sincere about talking. He had done this before, and more often than not, it worked.
With a bit of hesitation, BJ was the first to accept, nodding his head slowly and rubbing Charles'. "Okay. We'll... we'll talk in the morning."
Hawkeye drunkenly scrutinized him before accepting as well. Though unlike BJ, Hawk flung his arms around the taller man in a hug, "Thanks, Char - Char - Charles."
He nodded and helped the two men stand. After they gained their balance, he guided them to their beds and tucked them in afterwards with a sigh. Both of them were out like lights as soon as they hit the bunk. Whatever they had been doing had clearly worn the two of them out; but it was unlikely that he'd ever know what it was they did exactly.
Pleased with his work, he finally climbed back into his bunk, turned off the lamp, and went back to sleep.
