~0~
Life is merciful in strange ways at the wrong times, so they don't have this discussion where anyone could just walk in on them. Which is a damn shame, Hawkeye thinks, because he'd much rather do time in Leavenworth than have this conversation. He has a chance at getting laid in Leavenworth.
(But all this comes later.)
~0~
They don't have this discussion where anyone could just walk in, they have it in Seoul- no, no, that's not the start of it either- they have R&R and decide to get a jeep to Seoul; they leave Radar et al to take care of the camp and even further back than that: a fresh-faced young recruit arrives in Korea and introduces himself as BJ/Trapper/Hawkeye/Henry.
It's just them in the jeep, wind being pushed through their hair; BJ's driving, which could foreshadow just about anything to come, really, which leaves Hawkeye with nothing to do but crack jokes and crack apart a bit more himself, all the way to Seoul, their elbows touching and embers dancing whenever their elbows move position because BJ turns the steering wheel.
Without their medical kits, Hawkeye knows they both feel naked.
As naked as walking through the mess tent without a stitch on?
Hey! And he unfolds that story for BJ's entertainment, borrows Klinger's line tasteful without being gaudy- all the best comedians plagiarize, it's a compliment. BJ's laughter keeps enough gas in the tank to get them to a little nondescript-nowhere hotel in Seoul, the night growing darker as it and BJ's laughter feeds itself on air plucked from Hawkeye's throat.
~0~
Crash, bang, Halt! No one's here.
~0~
Perhaps it really starts here: He reaches out his arms for something (someone) no longer there. He touches a piece of paper instead.
Trapper, he writes, then can't go any further.
(You bastard.)
~0~
"Of course I don't."
Yeah, right, BJ scoffs to himself, as if. The look Hawkeye is levelling him with is the most stable he gets away from the operating table and if he'd known that was all it took to get his bunkmate to serious up, he'd've asked him if he was queer months ago. Probably by his second week in Korea.
Now make a joke, make a joke so everyone else looks away, make a joke so I know it's true.
Yeah, he wants it to be true. Yeah, he knows it's true. But the reasons for that can be suppressed (repressed) for later. When this war has carved out a few more pieces an made space in his heart for that kind of infidelity. For now, BJ is content with knowing he won't be left with an empty space and nothing to fill it with.
~0~
It's not news to Hawkeye that he rarely says what he means, or means what he says. So when he says 'of course I'm not' meaning to be a queer-
Well.
Read between the lines, Captain Hunnicutt. Read them close and tuck it away with Peg's letters and Erin's pictures.
Yeah, right.
All this looking over at BJ is starting to hurt his neck, so he relinquishes eye contact and drinks some more whiskey. It's better than their camp martinis, but it doesn't burn going down.
"Hell, Beej, whatever gave you that idea- the bathrobe or my dramatic pettiness?"
Alright, so he was hoping BJ would find out. He'd been so careful, because BJ and Trapper are/were married with kids and people will excuse them a lot and he's just Hawkeye who has to guard himself with over-the-top mannerisms so anyone can turn round and say any reasonable queer would never make it so obvious.
BJ shrugs, the line of his shoulders shrugging the weight of the world off him and letting the world fall by the wayside, "I sleep with you every night, Hawk." Outside, the sun has gone down. BJ leans forward from his position on the rug and drags the the threadbare curtains closed, still the shining beacon of light at the centre of this cheap pink hotel room, the light of the floor lamp catching on his hair.
"I've slept with a lot of people- thousands, if you must know. Some of them set fire to themselves after because they knew life'd never be so good again. You shouldn't be asking your local surgeon about these things, you know, you won't respect me in the morning."
A sigh, a tiny gust of wind. It throws Hawkeye against the wall and the look shot his way pins him down to the peeling wallpaper, a butterfly dead and pinned out for inspection. "I just want the truth, Hawkeye."
~0~
"I just want the truth, Hawkeye." Every word, he takes a pebble from his mouth and lays it down on the floor in front of him, building a path between them that gets longer and longer, never actually connects them together.
"Well, Beej, you show me yours and I'll show you mine, how about that?"
He pours his third glass of whiskey, leaning over to top up Hawkeye's fourth. He sighs again. Asks him again. "Tell me the truth, Hawkeye."
~0~
Everything hurts, in this dirty pink hotel room, hurts in ways that Hawkeye knows so well they're under his skin like worms.
"Tell me the truth, Hawkeye." But BJ is the revelation and he's just the question. Hawkeye wants to touch him like he's a sugarcube (wants to put him in his mouth) only he'll ruin him. Ruin it and this and him and everything.
Alright.
"There's this guy... I'm kinda in love with." It's you. "He'll never love me back." Not that I blame him. "But if it wasn't for him, I'd..." Just like Trapper. Every thought abandons him, leaves him with just his heart (leaking like a tap) and his whiskey glass (he swallows and now that's empty too.) "What about you, huh, soldier? Anything to confess? I'm only a surgeon Monday to Friday- on the weekends I'm a barkeep."
~0~
Too many things. If he confesses everything, they'll be here for five days. If he wants to confess reasonably, without making it obvious he's bitter and jealous of Trapper John, that brings it to seven. They've got 24 hours R&R, they spent five getting here, they're saving five to get back. They need eight hours sleep. That leaves six and they've been here two and they need breakfast in the morning. Two hours is nowhere near enough to string a comprehensive thought together. Gosh darn it.
Will I ever be as good as Trapper? Will anyone ever stop mentioning Henry Blake?
BJ keeps it simple: "I've thought about cheating on Peg with this guy." Nice going, buddy.
~0~
"Oh- who is he?"
"...Just this guy I know."
Well, that's just great.
~0~
Yeah, he ran his mouth a bit there, but if Hawkeye's a queer then why shouldn't he have said it? Maybe if-
BJ feels his hopes building. Maybe everyone can get a bit of what they want.
~0~
"Come on , Beej, who is he?" Hawkeye demands to know, gesturing with his plastic tumbler grandly; nothing about this conversation is affecting him in anyway; he's as calm as a woman in a frying pan, he's...
"No one special. It doesn't matter."
Screams echo in his ears. He closes his eyes, lets himself, just briefly. It's the hope that kills you.
~0~
Okay so he lost his nerve, so sue him. He's not the first to chicken out confessing undying love to a guy. So he lost his nerves- so have half the kids that slide onto his operating table, leg nerves, arm nerves, toe nerves. neck nerves. With a groan belying his age and the hours he spends on his feet bent over innards, Hawkeye leans forward and takes the bottle of whiskey from him, lets their hands brush, fills both glasses to the top, puts the bottle back in his hand, fingers dancing over fingers again. Damn you, Hawkeye, damn you.
"Toast. To the both of us."
BJ blinks, "That's it?" He had expected more, the way Hawkeye is always overflowing his own skin and spilling out in bright bursts of colour the same way enemy fire hits the ground. (The way for which BJ loves him.)
"Unless you wanna leave?" The tilt of his eyebrows and the shadow over his cheek gives him a certain vulnerability that BJ loves more than he loathes. He genuinely considers the question.
~0~
If anything but the alcohol is keeping him alive, he doesn't know what it is. BJ's eyebrows draw together as he frowns, seriously thinking about the answer. Hawkeye knows what his answer will be already. The answer Hawkeye wants is lodged in his own throat, be torn out and stuffed into BJ's mouth if the need arises. Don't leave.
Which means nothing. Which means the same as a knee to the chest. Which means the same as a goodbye kiss passed on through Radar. Even though you're in love with somebody else. Even if.
What's keeping them together- and holding Hawkeye together? Low self-esteem? The fact they still have to work and live and shower together tomorrow? It's the whiskey, isn't it? Course it is.
"Nah," BJ laughs and shakes the atmosphere off, swigging his drink and breaking out the deck of cards he keeps in his pocket. "If I left now I'd probably crash the jeep."
Hawkeye laughs. Hawkeye makes a wise crack. Hawkeye thinks about being in the jeep when it crashes. Hawkeye drinks. Plays a hand of poker, drinks some more, cracks out the dirty jokes, drinks more, feels his heart floating up the back of his throat, ready to be spewed out. Hawkeye takes what he can get.
~0~
Dear BJ,
I know it was you who convinced Potter to call Sidney and I know it was you who wanted me to come here.
Did I ever tell you about the time Trapper sedated me?
~0~