(no subject)
Title: Those Who Wait.
Fandom: MASH
Characters: BJ, Hawkeye
Prompt: 006. Hours
Word Count: 955
Rating: PG13
Author's Notes: Blatant mockery of characterisation.
Big Damn Table:Here
Radar lasts the longest.
“Then when I turned 13 my Uncle Ed said, Walter, he said, I think it’s time you became a man.”
Hawkeye coos and raises his brow, gliding along the desk a little more, nudging Radar with a knee into his arm. “Radar, you old dog, you’re a man? You’ve been holding out on us this whole time? So that charming naiveté is just a ploy to win a few nurses!”
Radar blushes, puffing his cheeks out, “Not that kind of man, Mister! He … he gave me the keys to the family truck and took me for a drive around the farm. Said I was a natural, too, said I was heaps better than my cousin Larry. You know that nincompoop is five years older than me and still can’t drive? Fell off a horse when he was little though, might have something to do with it.”
While Radar holds his chin and contemplates, Hawkeye rolls his eyes and flings himself off the desk, “What’s the time Radar?”
“Half an hour after you came in here, Sir. You gotta be some place?”
“I wish.”
*
Potter’s on the phone with Tokyo, gritting teeth around his ire.
“You have three seconds to take your boots off my desk, Pierce, or I’ll have them worn out with OD duty, capeesh?”
“Colonel, you look stressed,” Hawkeye says helpfully, moving over to the booze cabinet, “How about a belt to calm the nerves? Should I get two glasses?”
“One’s enough. Do me a favour and try to find your dishonourable discharge while you’re there.”
“Colonel, you’re breaking my heart,”
Potter waves him out with an impatient hand, “And I’m sure a lot of young ladies will thank me for it, now scram!” Hawkeye trudges out, frustrations heavy on his shoulders, listening to Potter shout at the telephone, “Don’t give me unforeseeable difficulties, we have casualties due any time now!”
*
Charles only listens to his Mozart.
“Quite the genius. Would have played great on the kazoo,” Hawkeye fishes, sitting on Charles’ cot and rifling through his mail, “Boston, Boston, Ooo, Ladies at Leisure-”
Charles snatches his things from Hawkeye’s grasp, lips drawn in a thin taut line, “Take your ill manners and poor mental health away from here.”
“Winchester! I’m dying of boredom. Boredom so intense it’s nestling deep in the corners of my patience, grinding it down until there’s nothing left. And while I understand that alone is sweet music to your ears, Mozart here is stoking the fire with his well tuned, maple wood piano.”
Charles turns up the volume, annoyance replaced with a faint, mocking smirk.
*
Margaret screeches a lot.
“It was you, wasn’t it Pierce?! I can’t believe I didn’t crash down your door the minute I found it missing. Oh you petty, pathetic little man I’m going to have your head in a sling for this!”
Hawkeye backs away from her angry fists, bumping into tables in the mess tent as they both weave around them, nearby people laughing as they always do, “Margaret, when I said ‘some entertainment’ I only meant a friendly game of Checkers!”
“Oh, I know your friendly, Pierce. I hear all about your friendly. If you want to feather your nest with my nurses, at least keep your dirty mitts off my lingerie!”
Hawkeye busts through the mess tent door and hears a tray clang against it in his wake.
*
Father Mulcahy is writing his sermon.
“Yes, well, one must not sacrifice the eternal on the altar of the immediate, Hawkeye,” he says, nodding, jotting at his pad, stopping now and then to nibble at the end of his pen. Hawkeye glares at him, as if waiting for the second act.
“What’s the sermon on, Father? Waste management? I’m sure McArthur can pencil you in.”
“Captain, please,” Mulcahy looks skyward and Hawkeye sighs, hopping off the chair which he had been straddling. He pushes hair out of his eyes, hands on his hips,
“Do you have the time Father?”
“I always have time, Hawkeye,”
Hawkeye chuckles mirthlessly, leaves the tent, thinks, ‘not a minute too soon, then.’
*
Klinger’s his last hope, and that was never going to go well.
“Remind me what you’re doing again, Klinger?”
The Corporal looks up with his usual nonchalance, not bothered by the fact he’s wearing tights and a sequined vest, nor that he’s built himself a long, wobbly balancing pole out of sticks and surplus gauze. “I’m going to tightrope across this wire here, Captain,” he deadpans, pointing out into the compound, to nothing but dirt and stone.
“Despite the bubbling lava and flesh eating piranhas?”
Klinger blinks, “Yes, sir. Despite that.”
“Before you take the plunge, you haven’t got the time by any chance?”
“No, sir. I just know that it waits for no man. See you at the bitter end.”
Klinger takes position and Hawkeye makes his exit.
*
The chopper rolls in at 17:00 hours and Hawkeye rushes to meet them with the jeep. No wounded, just BJ, suit no longer crisp and expression no longer bright. He flops in beside Hawkeye, who beams.
“How was your day, honey?”
“Just saving the world. Nothing special.”
“Did you miss me?” Hawkeye grinds the Jeep into gear, heads in the direction of home. He won’t tell BJ that Potter had word of casualties, that they’re due within the hour. It’ll be okay, now. Now that they are both here. Back together.
“Nearly as much as I missed Charles.”
“He’ll be glad to hear it.”
“And you,” BJ stretches when the Jeep comes to a halt, “Did you miss me?”
Hawkeye grins, shrugs, and takes his friend's bags towards the Swamp, “Didn’t know you were gone.”
Fandom: MASH
Characters: BJ, Hawkeye
Prompt: 006. Hours
Word Count: 955
Rating: PG13
Author's Notes: Blatant mockery of characterisation.
Big Damn Table:Here
Radar lasts the longest.
“Then when I turned 13 my Uncle Ed said, Walter, he said, I think it’s time you became a man.”
Hawkeye coos and raises his brow, gliding along the desk a little more, nudging Radar with a knee into his arm. “Radar, you old dog, you’re a man? You’ve been holding out on us this whole time? So that charming naiveté is just a ploy to win a few nurses!”
Radar blushes, puffing his cheeks out, “Not that kind of man, Mister! He … he gave me the keys to the family truck and took me for a drive around the farm. Said I was a natural, too, said I was heaps better than my cousin Larry. You know that nincompoop is five years older than me and still can’t drive? Fell off a horse when he was little though, might have something to do with it.”
While Radar holds his chin and contemplates, Hawkeye rolls his eyes and flings himself off the desk, “What’s the time Radar?”
“Half an hour after you came in here, Sir. You gotta be some place?”
“I wish.”
*
Potter’s on the phone with Tokyo, gritting teeth around his ire.
“You have three seconds to take your boots off my desk, Pierce, or I’ll have them worn out with OD duty, capeesh?”
“Colonel, you look stressed,” Hawkeye says helpfully, moving over to the booze cabinet, “How about a belt to calm the nerves? Should I get two glasses?”
“One’s enough. Do me a favour and try to find your dishonourable discharge while you’re there.”
“Colonel, you’re breaking my heart,”
Potter waves him out with an impatient hand, “And I’m sure a lot of young ladies will thank me for it, now scram!” Hawkeye trudges out, frustrations heavy on his shoulders, listening to Potter shout at the telephone, “Don’t give me unforeseeable difficulties, we have casualties due any time now!”
*
Charles only listens to his Mozart.
“Quite the genius. Would have played great on the kazoo,” Hawkeye fishes, sitting on Charles’ cot and rifling through his mail, “Boston, Boston, Ooo, Ladies at Leisure-”
Charles snatches his things from Hawkeye’s grasp, lips drawn in a thin taut line, “Take your ill manners and poor mental health away from here.”
“Winchester! I’m dying of boredom. Boredom so intense it’s nestling deep in the corners of my patience, grinding it down until there’s nothing left. And while I understand that alone is sweet music to your ears, Mozart here is stoking the fire with his well tuned, maple wood piano.”
Charles turns up the volume, annoyance replaced with a faint, mocking smirk.
*
Margaret screeches a lot.
“It was you, wasn’t it Pierce?! I can’t believe I didn’t crash down your door the minute I found it missing. Oh you petty, pathetic little man I’m going to have your head in a sling for this!”
Hawkeye backs away from her angry fists, bumping into tables in the mess tent as they both weave around them, nearby people laughing as they always do, “Margaret, when I said ‘some entertainment’ I only meant a friendly game of Checkers!”
“Oh, I know your friendly, Pierce. I hear all about your friendly. If you want to feather your nest with my nurses, at least keep your dirty mitts off my lingerie!”
Hawkeye busts through the mess tent door and hears a tray clang against it in his wake.
*
Father Mulcahy is writing his sermon.
“Yes, well, one must not sacrifice the eternal on the altar of the immediate, Hawkeye,” he says, nodding, jotting at his pad, stopping now and then to nibble at the end of his pen. Hawkeye glares at him, as if waiting for the second act.
“What’s the sermon on, Father? Waste management? I’m sure McArthur can pencil you in.”
“Captain, please,” Mulcahy looks skyward and Hawkeye sighs, hopping off the chair which he had been straddling. He pushes hair out of his eyes, hands on his hips,
“Do you have the time Father?”
“I always have time, Hawkeye,”
Hawkeye chuckles mirthlessly, leaves the tent, thinks, ‘not a minute too soon, then.’
*
Klinger’s his last hope, and that was never going to go well.
“Remind me what you’re doing again, Klinger?”
The Corporal looks up with his usual nonchalance, not bothered by the fact he’s wearing tights and a sequined vest, nor that he’s built himself a long, wobbly balancing pole out of sticks and surplus gauze. “I’m going to tightrope across this wire here, Captain,” he deadpans, pointing out into the compound, to nothing but dirt and stone.
“Despite the bubbling lava and flesh eating piranhas?”
Klinger blinks, “Yes, sir. Despite that.”
“Before you take the plunge, you haven’t got the time by any chance?”
“No, sir. I just know that it waits for no man. See you at the bitter end.”
Klinger takes position and Hawkeye makes his exit.
*
The chopper rolls in at 17:00 hours and Hawkeye rushes to meet them with the jeep. No wounded, just BJ, suit no longer crisp and expression no longer bright. He flops in beside Hawkeye, who beams.
“How was your day, honey?”
“Just saving the world. Nothing special.”
“Did you miss me?” Hawkeye grinds the Jeep into gear, heads in the direction of home. He won’t tell BJ that Potter had word of casualties, that they’re due within the hour. It’ll be okay, now. Now that they are both here. Back together.
“Nearly as much as I missed Charles.”
“He’ll be glad to hear it.”
“And you,” BJ stretches when the Jeep comes to a halt, “Did you miss me?”
Hawkeye grins, shrugs, and takes his friend's bags towards the Swamp, “Didn’t know you were gone.”