A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long, writer's slump ain't a pretty thing. However, I got this and most of the next one done! Thanks for all the reviews!

"You have got to be the stupidest man alive, Pierce," Margaret commented. She stood in the washroom, and Hawkeye sat on a stool as she cleaned his wounds.

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "I try to defend you and this is what I get? Next time I'll just let random men kiss you."

Margaret got out the alcohol. She was pretty proud of Hawkeye, despite not throwing the first punch. Brandon was being treated in a different part of camp. While she knew there would be a price to pay later, she couldn't help but feel good how he had defended her. "Someone jealous?"

He winced as she cleaned the wound above his right eye. "Just practicing, I'm going to be your husband. That is unless you've found Brandon to be a more suitable candidate. Ow, Margaret, that hurts!"

"Sorry."

She pondered his words. Was he really jealous? It was a nice thought. She doubted it, however. He was just being kind, same as always.

She was about to explain why she would pick him over Brandon every time, but he beat her to it. "How's my favorite Major or Majorette doing?" Following his words, he moved his hand to rub her stomach in slow circles, drawing her closer to him by mere touch alone.

"Fine. A little back pain and some appetite trouble, but not much else." Margaret's vision of her and Hawkeye's relationship at the moment was…foggy. Were they dating? They were engaged. Were they in love? She was. Was he the most wonderful, kind, passionate, amazing man she had ever met? Yes.

"Good," he replied. "By chance, did I hit Brandon in the head so he won't remember any of this and not court martial me?"

Margaret smirked. "Not a chance, you hit him in his broad, wide, strong should–"

"Ok, I've heard enough."

Hawkeye stood up, intent on asking Margaret whether or not she would be interested in the movie in the Mess Tent, but she had other, more restraining plans for him. "Pierce, I'd appreciate it if you would act civil towards Brandon." Avoiding his gaze was very important, it would drive him mad and make sure he understood how much this meant to her. "I don't need you getting court martialed for some stupid reason."

Under the light of the wash-room bulb, that was an easy promise to make, but Hawkeye didn't want to think about his chances of keeping it the next day under the Korean sun. "Ok, ok, I'll act civil."

A sweet smile sprung to life on Margaret's face at his agreement. "Wonderful. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hawkeye caught her hand before she made an escape, pulling her into his arms. "See ya." Planting a lingering kiss on her forehead, he made certain he was the first one to leave the room.

Margaret smiled after he had gone, murmuring, "He's good, I'll give him that."

#

"Margaret, I need help over here!"

"One minute, Pierce!"

Margaret ran over to Hawkeye, who was bending over a badly bruised kid. That was the least of his worries; his leg was ripped and torn, bleeding onto the Korean dirt like an open bottle. Hawkeye could see the bone of the boy's leg. How could the war do this?

Margaret skidded to a stop and bent down next to Hawkeye. "He needs to go in now," she commented, knowing well that Hawkeye already had come to the same conclusion. "Kellye! Start some plasma and tell BJ we need him."

Hawkeye found a moment to crack a smile for his favorite officer. "Margaret, cheating on me already? And with BJ?"

Rolling her eyes, she hit his arm lightly. "You're too much."

"I know."

Within fifteen minutes, nearly the entire camp was packed inside OR. "Clamp," Hawkeye mumbled underneath focus beyond an archer, a sailor in a storm, and a pro-golfer all in one.

BJ looked up from his patient. "He gonna make it, Hawk?"

Hawkeye made a few more moves inside the boy's leg. Private John Wallok. Twenty-two. Wife and daughter, twenty-two and three. "Yup, he's gonna make it."

Margaret smiled up at him from under her mask. "Good work, Doctor."

He could detect the humor in her voice at his title. "You too, Major Baby."

A once-horrendous insult, now an endearing nickname that earned a proud blush on her cheeks. Goodness, what was this man doing to her?

As he stood, watching over the doctors, Brandon was not too happy about the whole thing. Sure, Hawkeye was a decent enough doctor, but did he have to take his girl, too?

Margaret had broken the news to Brandon the night before. It went something like this:

"Brandon, we need to talk. I'm sorry, but I can't marry you. Hawkeye and I are getting married. I appreciate what you tried to do, but you can tell my father I don't need his offers. Oh, sorry, I have to go, I hear Hawkeye outside."

Well, at least that's how it had seemed to Brandon. Being a 2-Star General in the US Army came with a certain amount of pride, and he wasn't about to lose it to a Captain who waltzed in and off-handedly asked his girl to marry him. Nope, too easy.

Brandon looked at the surgery Hawkeye had moved onto and tried to seem like he had some amount of medical knowledge.

BJ passed by Hawkeye and also paid a look. "Good work, Hawk. You deserve a gold star."

Hawkeye was human, and sort of enjoyed the pats ono the back he had received thus far. "Thanks, Beej. If only Frank were here, we could teach him a little something. Like surgery."

This earned a good laugh from the crowd, minus the one General.

It seemed to Brandon that Hawkeye was the popular kid in school, but he was also nice. That was an issue. How can someone be popular and nice?

"Captain, do you have to shout for glee every time you do something correctly?"

Margaret didn't like the sound of that. She loved everything about Hawkeye, of course, but he had a temper. A large one, when provoked. The way she saw it, this was strike one. The first landmine. The first shell to hit the base. If Brandon was trying to get under Hawkeye's skin like she suspected, he was pretty darn close.

After getting a change of gloves, she quickly went to Hawkeye's side, muttering under her breath, "You promised..."

He shot her a look. "You're holding me to that?" The look in her eyes was answer enough. "Ok, ok."

OR was silent for the next few minutes.

"So, Colonel," Brandon announced with a boom. "What's it like in this unit on a usual day?"

Potter shrugged. "Not much unlike today. We may be dysfunctional, but we're a family."

Father Mulcahy rolled his eyes, but no one missed the smile. "Dysfunctional, indeed."

A wave of laughter passed through the room.

Well, that wasn't what Brandon was going for.

Ok, a new approach.

Waling over to Margaret, he gave her a soft smile. "Major, may I say," He said the next part under his breath, but just loud enough for an eavesdropping Hawkeye to pick up. "You radiate, even in surgical garb."

Strike two, Margaret counted.

She shot Hawkeye a glance as if to say, Hawkeye, if you do something that we'll both regret, you'll be calling Frank to come save you.

Hawkeye swallowed down his animosity, but it remained bubbling in him like fire. How dare he say that to Margaret? Who did he think he was?

Don't blow up. Do it for Margaret. Remember? The woman of your dreams? Which, by the way, is a tough standard to reach already!

Hawkeye tried to obey the voice inside his head, but it was like holding one's breath under water; he didn't know when he would have to open his mouth. "Colonel, how many more?"

"Klinger?" Potter redirected the question to his company clerk.

Klinger shrugged. "A few more, we're doing pretty well today."

Today would've been a great day if it weren't for General Snob, Hawkeye thought.

Margaret sighed under her mask. The sooner OR was done, the sooner she could get the explosion that was her fiancé out of here.

Brandon knew his words were having the desired effect. He also noticed that getting to Margaret got to Hawkeye much more than a direct insult to him. Noted and remembered.

Brandon didn't want to seem obvious, so he let the next hour of OR go by in easy-going air. People joked, people worked hard, while he waited for an opportunity.

And it came. Subtly, but it came.

Hawkeye was finishing the last patient, and Margaret had been assisting him. There it was. The target.

"Ok, if everyone will excuse me," Hawkeye began as the last patient was rolled out of post-op. "I have a hot date with either Margaret or the stil, I'll let her decide."

Brandon cut off the beginning of Margaret's reply. "Captain," he channeled every superior officer he'd ever had since West Point through his voice. "I'd be glad if you wouldn't manufacture your operations to include Major Houlihan, you can keep your flings outside the operating room."

Strike three.

"General," Margaret jumped in before Hawkeye could start. "Captain Pierce does no such thing, and how dare you assume I would–"

Margaret turned to her fiancé, afraid for Brandon's sake at the glint in his eyes.

Brandon smirked under his mask. The desired effect, indeed. "What's wrong, Captain? Did I touch something precious?" he sneered.

A maniacal, rage-filled laugh filled the room, coming from Hawkeye. He stared at Brandon like he started the war himself. He pointed to the door. "That's it, Hunter, outside."

Margaret grabbed Hawkeye's arm. "Pierce, don't."

Potter wasn't going to have this, whatever it was. "Ok, no more of this. General Hunter, I'd be much obliged if you'd keep those comments to yourself. Pierce, shut up." He knew he could take a bit more of a…personal approach with his chief surgeon.

He didn't hit home.

Hawkeye untangled himself from Margaret's arm, using the last bit of gentle touch he had. "Brandon, if you ever, and I mean ever talk about her like that again–"

BJ knew all too well where this was going. "Hawk, he isn't worth it."

Even Brandon was getting a nervous at the look in Hawkeye's eye.

Hawkeye tore of his mask and grabbed Brandon by the collar. "You can't talk to her that way," he seethed. No one, not BJ, not Potter, not Margaret had ever heard him talk like that. It wasn't even like Hawkeye anymore.

This had gone too far, Potter decided. "Klinger, get an MP in here!" He silently motioned to BJ and Charles to grab a hold of their friend.

"I'll have you court martialed for touching a superior officer!" Brandon hollered through a thick voice. It did nothing to frighten Hawkeye.

"Superior officer my foot." Hawkeye threw a punch to Brandon's jaw, sending him sprawling against the OR floor.

Hawkeye turned to find Margaret and explain, but all he found was the swinging OR door and her mask on the floor.

She's going to kill me.

#

Hawkeye found Margaret in her tent not a minute later. "Margaret, we need to –"

"No, we don't!" She exploded, turning to face him with a Houlihan tone that he didn't care for. Margaret was rivaling his earlier anger with the look in her eyes. "Pierce, you promised me you would act civil, and you punch the man!?"

"Margaret, he called you a fling, I wasn't going to let him do that to you!" He took a step closer to her, but it only made her madder.

Margaret shook her head. "No. No, that's not why. It's because of your big pride, that inconsiderate ego of yours. You just have to have the last say, the last word, you can't walk away from a fight." She was touching on a nerve and she knew it, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to be angry, she wanted him to understand that.

Hawkeye rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. Sure, sometimes he wanted to get the last say in a fight, but this was one fight he didn't want to have! "I'm sorry, alright?"

"No, you're not sorry."

"What?"

Margaret set her heel into the ground. "You're just apologizing so we can go back to this morning, with Superman Pierce saving poor, helpless, pregnant Margaret. Well, no more! I want you out!"

She marched to the door and opened it. "Leave, now."

Hawkeye didn't know how to react. "Margaret, is this what you want?"

"Yes."

"What are you saying?"

Margaret didn't know the answer to that. "I'm saying...I'm saying I want you to leave until I'm not furious at you."

Eyes locked on his love, he nodded. "Alright. But just remember..." he walked over to where she stood in the doorframe, bending down to her level. His breath on her cheek sent her heart into her throat. "...I care about you, and I won't let you marry that jerk."

"Pier-"

His lips pressed against hers, her whole mind went blank.

The kiss was brief, and she knew he was doing it on purpose. She was tempted to slip her hands to the back of his neck, pull him closer and deeper until he could never, ever leave her. The way his lips melded into hers, she wanted him to stay.

Unfortunately for Hawkeye, the Houlihan pride was just as strong as his. The moment he gave her one last kiss, she pushed the door open wide. "Out."

He nodded, and with one more glance, left for the Swamp.