B.J. turned the volume up on the radio when he heard the beginning of the weather forecast. "…And by the time it's all said and done," the DJ said cheerfully, "we'll have 10 to 12 more inches on the ground."
Coming up next to B.J. in the living room, Hawkeye asked, "So how do you like Maine by now?"
B.J. smiled. "Oh, snow's great, I don't mind it. I'm just worried about your dad and Erin getting back home. The roads are starting to look slick."
Hawkeye took a look out the window. B.J. was right, the snow was falling at a pretty good clip and the roads were getting covered. His father was an experienced driver in this weather, though, so he was only slightly worried. He was about to say as much to B.J. when the phone rang.
He picked it up and speak of the devil, there was his father on the other end. "Hey Dad," he said, subconsciously taking another glance out the window. "Where are you?"
"Son, we're going to stay here in Portland overnight, all right?" His father's voice sounded distant; the connection wasn't the greatest. "Erin's fine, we're both fine. But the roads are getting bad and we started to do a little sliding around, and I didn't want to frighten the poor child… not to mention take any chances when it wasn't necessary. We found a motel room, we'll be fine. OK?"
"Sounds very sensible, Dad."
"Erin's excited as hell about staying in a motel. Doesn't take much to make her happy, huh?" He chuckled and Hawkeye joined in. "She wants to talk to her dad. Can you put him on?"
"You bet." He turned around to find B.J. hovering, ready and waiting for the phone. "Beej, Erin's just fine. She and Dad are staying in Portland for the night. Here, she wants to talk to you."
He let B.J. have a chat with his daughter and moved to the window, looking out at the snowstorm. Ever since he was a kid, he loved snowstorms. As a Maine boy, he'd had no idea there were places that never got snow, like California, where B.J. grew up. This was all S.O.P. to him.
He heard B.J. end the call with, "I love you, sweetheart. You listen to your Pop-pop and be good, OK? Bye bye."
Hawkeye smiled. Erin and her Pop-pop were quite a team. They'd really taken to one another like… well, like Hawkeye and B.J. when they'd met on Korean soil, actually. An instantaneous connection.
The phone conversation over, B.J. came to stand at his side and the two of them watched the snow fall in silence for a while. Hawkeye felt blanketed in warmth inside the cozy house, with a fire going in the fireplace, and with his best friend next to him. Just the two of them. Dad and Erin not coming home until tomorrow…
He redirected his thoughts before they could go down a dangerous path.
B.J. broke the silence with, "I'm glad they decided to stay put. Erin's all wound up, though. Your poor dad… He may not get much rest with a rambunctious 7-year-old climbing the walls."
Hawkeye got a kick out of the image. "He knows how to handle her." But even as he said it, he had his doubts.
"Hey!" B.J. suddenly exclaimed, interrupting Hawkeye's musings. "Gunsmoke time." He pointed at his watch. They never missed Gunsmoke, it was one of the many rituals they'd established since B.J. had moved in. Hawkeye crossed the room and turned off the radio while B.J. turned on the TV, and they both landed on the couch at the same time, just as the theme song heralded the beginning of the show.
They sat closer on the couch than they needed to, B.J.'s thigh right up against Hawkeye's, but it didn't mean anything. It was just how they were... they touched a lot… always had.
B.J. snaked his arm across the back of the couch, behind Hawkeye's shoulders, but surely it was nothing more than a couple of best friends settling in to watch some TV, making themselves comfortable.
For the next hour, they watched Gunsmoke, imploring Marshal Dillon to jump Miss Kitty's bones already, and making the occasional snide comment about the commercials. It was so reminiscent of their movie nights back at the 4077th that Hawkeye almost felt as if he'd traveled back in time. All they needed to complete the illusion was a hairy Lebanese transvestite operating a temperamental projector at the back of the room.
The western gave way to the local news, and they stayed put on the couch for a little while, watching the reports of heavily falling snow and roads becoming treacherous. But when the hard news ended and the sports segment began, Hawkeye stood and said, "Feel free to stay up and watch TV as late as you'd like, Beej, but I'm going to bed."
"No," B.J. said, standing and shutting off the TV. "I'm going upstairs too."
Hawkeye turned off the downstairs lights and took one last look out the window at their winter wonderland. They left Waggle sleeping soundly on his favorite chair, all four legs pointing in the air.
Something felt a little strange as they climbed the stairs together. Neither one of them was saying anything, and Hawkeye found himself getting nervous for no discernible reason. There was something in the air between them… he didn't think it was his imagination.
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, he knew the tension between them was definitely not his imagination. B.J. was at his side, against him, invading his personal space, their hips bumping as they walked. Hawkeye cleared his throat, wondering when exactly his mouth had turned into the Sahara. Another touch, hand against hand… finger stroking finger… it couldn't have been accidental… could it?
When Hawkeye paused at his bedroom and turned to say goodnight—because he honestly had no idea what else to do—B.J. caught him off guard by putting a hand on his side and pushing him ever-so-gently to the closed door. Solid wood at his back, soft B.J. pressing against his front, Hawkeye heard his own heart thundering in his ears. He watched B.J.'s face, transfixed. His best friend's eyes fell to half mast as he leaned in even closer and breathed, "Hawkeye…"
All resistance gone, Hawkeye met him halfway and brought their mouths together in a scorching open-mouthed kiss. He had no idea where this came from and for a moment, he just pushed away rational thought and let it happen. B.J.'s mouth couldn't have tasted any sweeter… the realization of this long-held dream couldn't have been any more satisfying. Time stopped, and Hawkeye's world consisted only of B.J. and him and this magical moment, this beautiful kiss.
But then his conscience kicked in, and he forced himself to break the kiss, putting a hand on B.J.'s chest to establish some distance. Dazed, aroused, flustered, he took a shaky breath and then heard himself saying, "B.J., I don't want you to do something—"
You might regret, was how he was planning to finish that, but B.J. cut him off. "Hawk," he said, a seductive smile forming on his face, "let's not pretend this is a new thought. This is… well, this is something that's been building between us for years. I think we both know that I'm not doing anything impulsive here. Not at all. Now… do you really want to debate it, or…"
He let the thought trail off, his adorable smile growing a little, a sultry "come hither" look in his eyes. Oh, Hawkeye had no intention of debating further. He grabbed B.J. behind the neck and pulled him in for a second kiss, this one bolder and better executed than the first… this one so passionate and intense that they both moaned as their tongues met. Hawkeye reached behind him and opened his bedroom door, grabbing a fistful of B.J.'s shirt while they still kissed, blindly pulling him in.
He steered B.J. to the wall, shoving him up against it a little harder than he intended, the kisses continuing, little whimpers escaping from both of their throats. Eventually needing air, Hawkeye reluctantly released B.J.'s mouth and buried his face in his neck, breathing hard and breathing him in. He smiled; everything was perfect. B.J.'s smell, his harsh, ragged breath in Hawkeye's ears, his hands kneading into Hawkeye's waist. It was everything he'd imagined in his daydreams… it was nothing like he'd imagined… it was better.
"Hawkeye…" B.J.'s voice was raspy, pleading, and Hawkeye was only too happy to oblige. He put his mouth back on B.J.'s, tugging at his lower lip, licking his tongue. His fingers played with the soft hair at the back of B.J.'s neck, making little swirls.
"Uhnnn," he mumbled incoherently, not entirely sure what it was he intended to say. He couldn't be held responsible for the noises coming out of his mouth at the moment. He broke the kiss and put his forehead on B.J.'s, taking a couple of slow, deliberate breaths. Their groins were pressed together and they were both hard, grinding against each other, instinctively seeking release.
"Hawkeye," B.J. groaned again, sounding as if he were in pain.
Hawkeye sank to his knees in front of his friend, hands cupping his ass. Then one hand moved to the front, palm resting on the bulge in B.J.'s jeans… stroking once, twice. B.J. moaned. Beyond rational thought now, Hawkeye ordered his fumbling fingers to unzip B.J.'s jeans, and he yanked them down, the boxers right after.
"Hawkeye… Hawkeye… Hawkeye." It sounded involuntary, like B.J. was so far gone that his mouth was on autopilot. But Hawkeye loved the sound of his name in that voice, so thick with want. He listened to his name tripping off the tongue of the man he loved, and he shut his eyes, taking B.J. into his mouth, his hands once again finding their way to the pliant flesh of B.J.'s ass.
He thought about a handshake at Kimpo, about a blinding smile that nearly left him speechless. He thought about practical jokes and fights and schemes and chess games. He thought about daily showers and nightly fantasies. He thought about a heartbreaking goodbye on Korean soil… a goodbye that wasn't one after all.
All of this and more flashed through his mind as he sucked and licked and listened to soft murmurs of pleasure.
Best relationship of his life… suddenly turning better.
Instinctively B.J. began to thrust, and Hawkeye firmly gripped his hips, holding him still, anchoring him to the wall. I'll take care of you, baby, he thought, his mouth still working. I'll get you there.
A moment later, he did.