A/N: Hey! I have NO IDEA what went wrong with the earlier post...SO sorry about that! And thanks a BUNCH to CanonAntithesis for pointing it out. THANKS!

Now, if you ever find yourself in the middle of the 4077th, you know that the O-Club is a must-see. The Vegas of the compound, where love is born and drinks are poured. Where people dance and fight, the home away from home of the camp.

Tonight was no exception. Packed like a child's school book-bag, it was a miracle of physics there was still ample dancing room. Conveniently, it had a perfect empty space in the middle for a certain Major and whichever officer got to her first.

Hawkeye was going to make sure it was him.

Unfortunately, Brandon did not have post-op duty that evening.

"So, Major," he flirted with a smile most women would find charming. He leaned over her at the bar, trying to entice her by mere language and posture. "Got space in those lovely arms for a General?"

No, you have to understand, Margaret was bitter. She was glum, mad at Hawkeye, and felt everyone around her was just plain inadequate. "No."

Brandon knew this wouldn't be easy. The problem with insulting Margaret to annoy Hawkeye was, well, he had insulted Margaret. "I'm sorry. Being a General comes with stress, and I lost my head."

"As if you ever had one!"

Brandon smirked, and because of that shot or two Margaret had earlier, she couldn't help but smile along with him.

He tried again, pouring on whatever sugar he had. "What'd'ya say. One dance?"

Margaret pitied Brandon, in a way. He meant well, he was just interested in the wrong woman at the wrong time. What was the harm? "Fine," she decided. "One dance."

"That's all I ask."

His hand was strong, Margaret noticed. It enveloped hers like a prince's glove, and she felt like royalty just by touching him. Her heart belonged to Hawkeye, even if he didn't know it, so why was she feeling like her Army boots were glass slippers on a diamond floor?

Floating into his embrace, there were no stares for her to ignore. Her dancing with a General was not out of the ordinary.

Brandon had Margaret right where he wanted her. If she was going to have a brief lapse in judgement and pick a Captain over him, that was fine. He could fish her back within the day.

"Margaret?" He whispered in her ear. She fought back the attraction, thinking instead about Hawk–

Hawkeye.

Could she not be faithful to him before it had even started? Was this the foundation she chose to lay down for their relationship, before it had even started? What a terrible thing to do. She was cheating on him before they were even together. She should've said no right away–now she had to deal with seeing Hawkeye, the feelings and doubts in the pit of her stomach, and the heart-wrenching guilt that she had from hurting the most wonderful man in the world, even if he didn't know it yet.

Mad at him as she was, she still loved him.

She pulled herself out of Brandon's arms. "I-I have to go."

She left him no room to hold her back or ask questions, knocking into several people on her way out of the Officer's Club.

The compound was barren and alone. A few MP's and the stray camp-dweller, but not much else. The camp could've been Times Square and she wouldn't have noticed.

She walked into post-op, only to be told by Kellye that he had gone to the Swamp. "Honestly, you'd think he could stay in one place," Margaret muttered.

Her heart refused to leave her throat as she knocked on the Swap door. "Pierce?"

"Margaret?"

Walking in, she found him standing at the still. She couldn't explain it, but seeing him standing there in front of her sent whatever air she had left running for cover. He was her dream. Her love, her life, her hopes and wishes.

"Margaret, look, we need to–"

He would've gotten farther, but it was nearly impossible to do such a thing with her lips pressed against his like that.

He wasn't going to pull away. Shells, artillery, and MacArthur himself wouldn't be able to do that.

Not thinking twice, his hands found their way along her back as she got on her toes to reach him. He pulled her closer and closer, only stopping for the minimum breath physics and anatomy allowed.

She had him. After waiting and waiting, he was hers. She would soon have a ring to prove it, and no one, not any nurse in all of the US Army, could take that away from her. She fell deeper into his arms, leaning on him for total support.

Did he understand? Did he know what this meant? Could he tell, could he read what she was trying to tell him from lip to lip, that she loved him? The doubt in her mind compelled her to kiss him even deeper, pulling him so that he curved around her.

The spell was briefly broken when he pulled away. His breath was still labored as his broken voice tried to put words together. "Margaret, I–"

He was interrupted by her artful yet angelic smile. She traced a finger down the side of his face, nearing his lips again. He knew, alright. He knew.

Giving him a full, lingering kiss, her arms found a comfortable spot around his neck. "Me too," she admitted.

There it was.

Without word or language, without rhyme or reason, it was done. They passed the finish line, they graduated, they signed the papers. No more nervous glances across a room, no more questioning if the other shared their feelings.

"This is it, we've got to just get them in the same room and, I don't know, shoot them with truth serum," BJ half-joked. He and Charles walked to the Swamp, intent on 'helping' Margaret and Hawkeye into the final step. You know, the step they skipped before getting engaged.

Charles nodded. "I think sedation could also come in handy, if necessary."

"Agreed."

The wide-open door revealed their two best friends, kissing like it was the New Year in the Paris.

Charles tried to form something resembling words through his gaping jaw. "Is that…"

BJ nodded. "…about time."