MASH Fic: Jitterbugs
This was my first fic, it's old but I thought I'd post it here to get started!
Title: Jitterbugs
Response to Mash _Slash list challenge: Song or Dance
Rating: G or Corporal
Charles/ Klinger
Strains of music reach Charles’ ears all the way from the mess tent. He ambles quietly over and sits in the shadows behind the party, not wanting to show himself. Not wanting to lose face after having said anything less than a formal cotillion was boorish. He taps his feet and sways gently to the music.
The door of the mess tent bangs shut and a tall hairy man in a well cut polka dot dress and red high heels plonks himself down next to Charles.
“Major” he says with a nod.
“Klinger” Charles sneers.
“What are you doing out here major?”
“I could ask you the same thing, corporal. I’m surprised you’re not carousing with the rest of those intoxicated louts.”
“Even a lout needs some air, sir. It’s sergeant Zale, he keeps trying to feel me up! I try to tell him I’m not interested, but he’s so drunk he thinks I’m Rita Hayworth.”
Charles snorts. Klinger laughs.
“Why Ms. Hayworth, you have a terrible five o’clock shadow. Might I suggest a shave?” jokes Charles. Both men laugh.
“I didn’t know you had a sense of humor sir. So, what are you doing out here where just any lout can sit down and have a chuckle?”
Charles sighs. He could try and lie but there would be no point. He is already sitting here, clearly enjoying the music he had professed to be beneath him. The jig is up.
“Truth be told, corporal, I enjoy jazz more than I let on. Though it has been nearly ten years, I was once quite the lindy-hopper.”
“You, sir? No. I don’t believe it.”
They are quiet for a moment. Uncertainty lingers in the air.
“Show me.”
“What?” Charles is flabbergasted.
“C’mon Major. Have some fun! Show me-I’m almost as good a dancer as Rita”
No one is more surprised than Klinger, except perhaps Charles, when he rises and extends his hand to the swarthy Ms. Hayworth.
“And away we go” says Klinger as Charles whirls him around. The song is a fast one and it takes them a moment to get their bearings.
“aaaargh. Cretin.” Charles grimaces as Klinger plants a red heel squarely on Charles’ foot. “I am leading, Mrs. Hayworth.”
“Right. Sorry sir.”
They stay in time, feet tripping lightly about. Charles leads Klinger through more complex dance steps than he knew existed. To Klinger it seems a miracle: the two of them have as much jump and jive as anybody. The music comes to an end and they stop to catch their breath. Their hands remain clasped.
“Whew. You know, you’re really light on your feet for a guy your-”
Charles shoots him a warning look.
“-rank,” Klinger finishes with a gulp.
They laugh and Klinger makes to leave as someone inside the mess tent puts “Unforgettable” on the record player. Nat King Cole’s soft baritone wafts into the night. Charles pulls Klinger in close. He has a strong gentle grip; one large surgeon’s hand sits in the small of Klinger’s back. The other is entwined in Klinger’s and rests on his chest as they move together, cheek to cheek. Charles feels a comfort he has not known since he arrived in this god forsaken place. They move smoothly back and forth, two bulky men dancing small graceful steps in the shadows behind the mess tent.
Title: Jitterbugs
Response to Mash _Slash list challenge: Song or Dance
Rating: G or Corporal
Charles/ Klinger
Strains of music reach Charles’ ears all the way from the mess tent. He ambles quietly over and sits in the shadows behind the party, not wanting to show himself. Not wanting to lose face after having said anything less than a formal cotillion was boorish. He taps his feet and sways gently to the music.
The door of the mess tent bangs shut and a tall hairy man in a well cut polka dot dress and red high heels plonks himself down next to Charles.
“Major” he says with a nod.
“Klinger” Charles sneers.
“What are you doing out here major?”
“I could ask you the same thing, corporal. I’m surprised you’re not carousing with the rest of those intoxicated louts.”
“Even a lout needs some air, sir. It’s sergeant Zale, he keeps trying to feel me up! I try to tell him I’m not interested, but he’s so drunk he thinks I’m Rita Hayworth.”
Charles snorts. Klinger laughs.
“Why Ms. Hayworth, you have a terrible five o’clock shadow. Might I suggest a shave?” jokes Charles. Both men laugh.
“I didn’t know you had a sense of humor sir. So, what are you doing out here where just any lout can sit down and have a chuckle?”
Charles sighs. He could try and lie but there would be no point. He is already sitting here, clearly enjoying the music he had professed to be beneath him. The jig is up.
“Truth be told, corporal, I enjoy jazz more than I let on. Though it has been nearly ten years, I was once quite the lindy-hopper.”
“You, sir? No. I don’t believe it.”
They are quiet for a moment. Uncertainty lingers in the air.
“Show me.”
“What?” Charles is flabbergasted.
“C’mon Major. Have some fun! Show me-I’m almost as good a dancer as Rita”
No one is more surprised than Klinger, except perhaps Charles, when he rises and extends his hand to the swarthy Ms. Hayworth.
“And away we go” says Klinger as Charles whirls him around. The song is a fast one and it takes them a moment to get their bearings.
“aaaargh. Cretin.” Charles grimaces as Klinger plants a red heel squarely on Charles’ foot. “I am leading, Mrs. Hayworth.”
“Right. Sorry sir.”
They stay in time, feet tripping lightly about. Charles leads Klinger through more complex dance steps than he knew existed. To Klinger it seems a miracle: the two of them have as much jump and jive as anybody. The music comes to an end and they stop to catch their breath. Their hands remain clasped.
“Whew. You know, you’re really light on your feet for a guy your-”
Charles shoots him a warning look.
“-rank,” Klinger finishes with a gulp.
They laugh and Klinger makes to leave as someone inside the mess tent puts “Unforgettable” on the record player. Nat King Cole’s soft baritone wafts into the night. Charles pulls Klinger in close. He has a strong gentle grip; one large surgeon’s hand sits in the small of Klinger’s back. The other is entwined in Klinger’s and rests on his chest as they move together, cheek to cheek. Charles feels a comfort he has not known since he arrived in this god forsaken place. They move smoothly back and forth, two bulky men dancing small graceful steps in the shadows behind the mess tent.