"Hawkeye," Erin said, pointing to the page she was coloring in her book, "what color do you think I should make the car?"
He leaned down to get a better look at her picture. "I think," he answered, perusing the array of crayons spread out in front of her on the floor, "that the car should be pink."
"OK!" she said enthusiastically, picking up her pink crayon.
Hawkeye exchanged a look with B.J. in an attempt to convey: Your daughter is entirely too cute.
B.J., sitting next to him on the couch, only laughed lightly, clearly enjoying the family moment.
And you're damn cute, too, Hawkeye thought as he watched the light in B.J.'s eyes.
It was New Year's Eve, and they were watching Guy Lombardo on TV, awaiting the big countdown to 1958. Erin had begged to stay up until midnight with them, and B.J. had relented, but confided in Hawkeye that she would probably fall asleep long before 12.
Nope, she was still wide awake and coloring, and it was 11:55. The excitement of being up well past her bedtime was obviously propelling her along.
Hawkeye took a sip of his wine and stole another glance at B.J. The three of them had fallen back into their cozy routine in just the couple days Hawkeye'd been back. "Uncle" and Dad and little Erin. The way they all interacted with each other was natural and effortless.
Hawkeye remembered with great clarity why he'd gone running home the last time. The same feelings were resurfacing; the desire to have this life, and the painful realization that he couldn't.
He forced his attention back to the TV and tried to focus on the music. Next to him on the couch, B.J. shifted a little… and seemed to move closer.
"I'm glad to put 1957 behind me," B.J. remarked, and Hawkeye glanced over at him.
"Shitty year," he agreed.
"Thanks for being such a rock for me. For both of us."
Hawkeye waved a hand dismissively. They'd had this conversation before; it seemed that B.J. could never thank Hawkeye enough. "You know that I was happy to do it. I wish I could've done more."
Their gazes met… and held.
Wish I could've done more. Been more. I ran away, and that was wrong, but I won't run away from you again.
B.J. broke off the intense eye contact and turned his attention back to the TV as the countdown to midnight began. All three of them were drawn to it, gleefully adding their own voices. "Ten, nine, eight, seven…"
Erin was screaming out the numbers now, she was so wound up. Then she stood up and began to jump around. Hawkeye was laughing so hard he couldn't finish the countdown. He sat there watching father and daughter yelling at the TV, "Three, two, one! Happy New Year!"
He let the two of them hug each other before he first pulled Erin into his arms, and then embraced B.J. They were all laughing now, and to Hawkeye it sounded like beautiful music. He was so happy to see the Hunnicutts welcoming 1958 in good spirits.
On the TV, as the Guy Lombardo band played "Auld Lang Syne," couples stopped dancing long enough to welcome in the new year with a kiss. Hawkeye watched, feeling suddenly self-conscious… acutely aware of B.J. next to him… ridiculously convinced that it must be written all over his face that he wanted to kiss his best friend. He could feel his cheeks turn red and his mouth go dry. The room felt very warm.
If B.J. really could read that thought, he gave no indication. After a moment, he clapped his hands once and announced to Erin, "OK, that's it, young miss. You got to see the countdown to midnight, and now I have to insist that you go to bed." He held out his hand and she took it without protest. "Be right back, Hawk, after I tuck her in. Please help yourself to more wine if you want."
Hawkeye studied his wine glass, considering that offer, but then decided he'd better not have any more. Best to keep his wits about him tonight. He was already feeling pretty unsteady.
When B.J. returned to the couch a few minutes later, the kissing on the TV was mercifully over. The couples were back to their slow-dancing while Guy Lombardo kept the music coming.
B.J. picked up his own wine glass and clinked it against Hawkeye's. "Happy 1958, Hawk," he said softly.
Hawkeye could only nod. He'd somehow lost his power of speech for the moment, staring into bright blue eyes that were too damn close. He was utterly unable to strip this scenario of its romantic overtones. He was sure it was all in his head, but it was powerful, and powerfully tempting.
He mirrored B.J. and sipped his wine, growing more and more aware of his own silence, but then B.J. put an end to his unease by saying, "I'm beat. I hope you don't mind if I head off to bed too? You can keep watching Guy Lombardo if you want—"
"No, no," Hawkeye interrupted, relieved. "I'm ready to hit the sack myself." He stood and stretched. "It was fun, though. Ringing in midnight with you and Erin."
B.J. embraced Hawkeye briefly, and then they went off to their respective bedrooms.
Where, just like the last time he'd stayed with the Hunnicutts, Hawkeye didn't get very much sleep at all.