Note: Back to Hawkeye's POV.

- In Love And War -
Chapter Twelve: Bright Sunshiny Day

Head…throbbing. Carefully, I cracked one eyelid open—gah! light!—then quickly closed it with a groan. Which was stupid, since the sound echoed painfully through my head. Burying my tender face against my pillow, I groped around in the debris surrounding my bed until I found what I was looking for: a pair of sunglasses. I shoved them onto my face, and tentatively opened my eyes—better, but still ouch. My whole body was one big ouch. A MacArthur of an ouch, if you will.

Carefully, I sat up, wincing and whimpering. Based on the lack of response from my bunkies, I deduced that I was alone in the Swamp. That was probably for the better, since I looked foolish trying to find and put on warm, clean clothes while moving as little as possible. I finally stumbled out into the compound, squinting through the sunglasses and wincing at every noise. A familiar figure was dragging itself towards me, and I reached out to grab its arm. "Margaret—" Wince, whimper, etc.

She looked as bad as I felt, and she probably felt as bad as I looked. "What?" she groaned.

"Last night—I think I said some things to you I don't think I meant to say to you, and I—"

She reached up to press her gloved fingers gently against my lips, and smiled slightly. "I can't seem to remember a thing we talked about last night," she said innocently.

I smiled back at her, and leaned into to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Margaret." I'd never thought I'd say those words with complete sincerity, but it had occurred to me while trying to pull my pants on this morning that I'd said enough to her last night that she'd have little trouble throwing blue discharge papers at me.

"But if you ever want to talk again," she offered carefully, "my doors are always open. I could use a new drinking buddy."

The mention of booze made me groan, but I promised to take her up on that offer before I wandered away. I felt…almost happy, which was strange, especially since it was so early in the morning. I think I might have even been smiling.

"Well, if it isn't Bingey, the eighth dwarf. Did I just see you kiss Margaret Houlihan?"

I simultaneously choked on my own spit and stumbled over my feet, but a hand grabbed my arm to steady me. "BJ—!"

"That's what they call me," he said with a smile. His hand remained around my elbow even after I'd found what little balance I had.

I gaped at him—at the bruise spreading across his left cheek, as well as the bruising around his nose; and I stared because he was here, talking to me…smiling at me…even after what I'd done… "What—what happened to you?"

He shrugged the question off. "It's nothing. I ran into a door or something. It looks a lot worse than it is." His face was open, honest, and vaguely worried when he said softly, "We need to talk."

"Yeah…" I agreed breathlessly. Talk. That could be good or bad. I hoped it was good. It was probably bad.

"I, uh, hear the supply tent's a good place to look for privacy."

Oh, God… "Yeah…" That was suddenly the only word my mouth knew, and my panicked mind wasn't about it give it any help. His hand still around my elbow, BJ directed me into the supply tent. It was lit by a single flickering bulb so, my hands shaking, I pulled off the sunglasses and set them on the nearest solid surface and went back to staring at BJ in shock. He stood there in front of me, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, looking suddenly nervous, which didn't at all help my nervousness—

And then everything—uncertainty, hope, fear, cold, hangover—was wiped clear of my mind as he leaned down to brush his lips against mine.

I melted.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, a thumb on my jaw tilting my head back slightly to a better angle so that he—we—could deepen the kiss. It was the sort of kiss every person dreams of—tender, caring, gently passionate, knowing and understanding, loving—the sort of kiss that makes time stop.

He pulled away slowly, leaving me with closed eyes, open mouth, and jelly legs. His thumb ran lightly along the line of my jaw and gently closed my mouth for me; I opened my eyes to see his face still very close to mine, smiling, glowing. "Sorry," he murmured, "but I wasn't sure if you'd do that again or not."

Now I know why women always faint in the movies, I thought weakly. I could also say, now, with complete confidence and truth that Cloud Nine was the best place in the world to be.

"I think it's time for that conversation I mentioned," BJ murmured, his hand sliding down my arm, fingers lacing through mine. He pulled me deeper into the tent, to the cot where I'd brought so many nurses, where I'd brought Trapper… We sat down together, close, my right shoulder, hip, and leg pressed against the corresponding parts of his left side. He was still holding onto my hand, our joined fingers resting on top of his knee, his thumb running lightly over my knuckles. I was still somewhere over the rainbow.

"So," he finally said, looking up from our hands to meet my eyes. "You and Trapper."

I gave my brain a kick and said quickly, "We're—he's like my brother. That's all."

Amazingly, BJ nodded understandingly. "That's what I guessed."

"You…what?"

"I did a lot of thinking yesterday, about a lot of things, and came to a number of conclusions. That was one of them."

"Very scientific," I muttered.

"Thank you. Next—you and me."

I forced myself to meet his eyes and ask, "Is there a you and me?"

He frowned ever so slightly, but his eyes were sparkling. "Maybe I wasn't clear enough before." Another kiss, this one a little less innocent than the last.

My thoughts were spinning happily, but I tried to get them to cooperate. This whole thing was so…shocking—yesterday, he'd been ready to knock my block off, and now here he was with his tongue halfway down my throat. To say the least, I was confused.

Reluctantly, I pulled back. He frowned in slight confusion, and I stammered, "BJ…what changed? Yesterday…and now this…"

"Like I said, I did a lot of thinking. I figured out why I was so angry—it wasn't because you were with Trapper, but because you were with Trapper. It's all about the emphasis."

"You were…jealous?"

"If that's what you want to call it, yes."

It was a decidedly strange feeling that I was feeling: a mix of euphoria that my wildest dreams seemed to be coming true, doubt that my wildest dreams were actually coming true, and certainty that my wildest dreams couldn't possibly be coming true. There had to be a catch, somewhere… "Beej," I said softly, my eyes fixed on my boots, "I—I'm not looking for…just sex."

"Who said I was?"

Brief pause of all bodily functions for shock, and I ended up gaping at him again. "And…you're married!"

He pretended to look stunned. "I am?" I didn't laugh, and he sighed with a sheepish smile. I found myself thinking how adorable that looked, and quickly told myself to put those thoughts on hold until we'd worked all this out. "Okay, I'm married—so what? Trapper's married."

"It's different with him. I don't—" I bit off the last two words—love Trapper—before I made a complete ass of myself, and went back to the staring contest with my feet. The booted bastards were winning. Lamely, I tried to fix my near-stupidity with, "You've always said you'd be faithful to her."

"Actually, I've always said I wouldn't lay my hands on another woman." He was doing what I always did, trying to lighten the tension and the mood, probably trying to make me smile; but I wasn't exactly in the smiling mood. He put his hand on the back of my neck, shook me gently, and chided, "You think too much. We both think too much. What say we give up on thinking for a little while?"

I am no saint. I am a mortal man in the prime of life, far from immune to temptation; and here was this gorgeous, perfect man offering himself to me, practically begging me to just give in to temptation…and who was I to refuse him? It was BJ, my Beej—an honest, caring man, one of the two best friends I'd ever had; I trusted him completely, and I…cared about him.

I think too much. Just stop thinking. Easy. Persuade the mind to go on another of those coffee breaks (though it wasn't too keen on leaving, now that things had started to get interesting), and then lean forward, lips to lips, hands running over face, shoulders, chest, back; his lips sliding down, across my cheek, tilt my head back so he can get to my neck, close my eyes, a soft moan, because this felt so right…

His tongue ran over my Adam's apple, and I gasped in surprise, my eyes flying open, thoughts flooding suddenly into my head. Can't now…want more than just sex…have things to do… "Beej," I gasped, "I—I have post-op. I can't…"

His lips stopped moving, and he rested his forehead against my shoulder with a small sigh. "You just had to think, didn't you?" His voice was meant to sound angry, annoyed, but all I heard was fond amusement. He pulled back with an exaggerated sigh, and informed me, "You need to learn how to clear your mind." He placed his fingertips at my temples and began moving them in a slow, circular motion. My eyes drifted shut…so relaxing…

His breath brushed lightly across my lips, and my eyes flew back open. Less than an inch separated our faces. I scrambled backwards, and ended up falling off the cot and onto the very hard and uncomfortable ground. I dragged myself up and glared mildly at him from a safe distance.

BJ was trying not to laugh at me, his face creased as he fought to not smile, his eyes sparkling with pure joy. "I'm a little disappointed," he finally said, his voice carefully controlled. "I was lead to believe you were something of a Don Juan."

"Well, you're not exactly one of Don's usual conquests, are you?" I snapped. I was angry with myself more than him—angry because he had this insane sort of power over me, and angry because I wanted him so badly. "You can be very cruel when you want to be."

He grinned rakishly. "You have no idea. Didn't you mention something about post-op?"

I glared again. "I'm not exactly fit to go out in public at the present moment, thanks to you."

A broad grin spread across his face, but he asked with complete innocence, "What's wrong, Hawkeye? Troubles?" He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, and stared at me—which didn't exactly help my problem. I turned my back to him, and thought of Granny Pierce, of the "food" in the mess tent, of this whole place, of everything except BJ and how good, how right, he felt…

"Jerk," I said cheerfully, and stuck my tongue out at him before hurrying out of the tent. I was probably grinning from ear to ear, humming softly to myself as I strolled through the compound. Life seemed to be taking a turn for the better.

My good mood was dampened slightly when I remembered that I still had to talk to Trapper. He wouldn't be very pleased if/when he found out about this latest development.

TBC