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“Hey, Trapper. Got any plans for the movie tonight?” Hawkeye asks as the two of them amble into their tent.
“Nah,” Trapper replies without meeting his eyes. He strides directly to the still and starts pouring himself a glass as he continues, “I’m staying in the Swamp tonight. Not really in the mood for Shirley Temple.”
“It’ll be a little while before we can get a new film in, anyways; I’m sure you’ll get another chance to watch.”
Trapper hums in assent but doesn’t add anything else to the discussion. The tent falls to ambient quiet, with the sounds of bugs trilling outside and nearby faint chatter as doorways open and shut again in the leadup to the night's busy schedule, keeping the 4077th from ever reaching true silence.
It isn’t a definitive sign that something’s wrong, Trapper drinking after a day of minimal work before Hawkeye can even offer him a glass. Hawkeye’s been moving a couple of the magazines he’d left lying around before his shift while he makes polite conversation to get Trapper out of his shell. It's that when Hawkeye settles himself down on his cot, sighing in relief at returning to his natural horizontal habitat, he sees Trapper is still hunched over the still without a single rant emerging from his lips about whatever daily Army indignity has him drinking so soon without any evening plans. That is out of character enough for Hawkeye’s brain to start turning over trying to figure out Trapper’s deal.
During dinner, Trapper was a little more short with the others than usual, especially with Margaret. Hawkeye had noticed that he was stingier with his laughs while they were in the mess tent, but he’d assumed that was because Trapper had been lost in his thoughts and his jokes hadn’t been up to par. For that matter, he thinks, Trap’s been lost in thought an awful lot lately. He flirted a little in OR yesterday but never fired off more than a one-off comment, even when a nurse decided to play back. Two nurses had tried to proposition him today (that Hawkeye had been near enough to see) and Trapper hadn’t even seemed to understand the double entendres or see the look in their eyes, just gave each of them a quick smile and continued on his way.
It was disturbing. It was, frankly, un-Trapper-like.
Hawkeye hums, feigning casual, “You know, I could do with a few hours of being somewhere Frank isn’t.”
“He got a date with Hot Lips tonight? I thought they didn’t canoodle on Tuesdays.”
“It’s Thursday, Trap.”
“Oh.” Hawkeye turns his head to see Trapper paused right in front of his own cot. As Trapper slouches onto the edge of his bed and takes a sip of the martini, Hawkeye re-thinks his own prior evening plans to cheer up Trapper.
Trapper hasn’t picked up anyone in two weeks, not counting the few quick gropes initiated by him when they both got a moment alone—which Hawkeye thinks are more for the sake of hearing him yelp when he isn’t expecting it, rather than pure desire. He got a letter from his wife just the other day and mail usually keeps him cheery for a few days, but he’s—Oh. A light switch turns on in his head. Of course this is about Trapper’s family. And the son who was never really his, or any of theirs.
Abruptly, Hawkeye stands up and has a near miss with his overhanging lamp. He curses. “I’m heading to the showers if the line’s not too long when I get there.”
He crouches slightly to sort through his footlocker to grab his shower essentials and clean underwear to change into. Where did I put them? Where… there! He straightens up triumphantly clutching his robe, some clothes hidden neatly in the robe pocket, and his shaving bag in hand. He waggles a finger in Trapper’s direction, “Don’t get too rowdy before I’m back.”
Trapper’s mouth twitches up and he gives a small salute in Hawkeye’s direction from the cot. “Aye-aye, Captain.”
Twenty minutes later, Hawkeye re-enters the Swamp humming a Cole Porter tune he got stuck in his head while in the shower. He’s freshly-shaven with nary a hint of his normal five o’clock shadow, hair towel-dried, and his robe tied tightly over his chest ('with a song in my heart', his brain helpfully supplies.)
He toes off his boots and puts on a fresh pair of socks. He’s glancing back at Trapper to make sure his gaze is on another area of the tent in case Hawkeye’s robe slips to reveal his surprise a little too early. Some nudity wouldn’t normally be an issue given that they shower together, but he’s hesitant to go too over-the-top with this scheme to get Trapper’s mind off Kim.
While Hawkeye was gone, Trapper shifted to rest upright against the wall of the tent. Hawkeye can see him slowly turning a half-empty martini glass in his hand; Trapper is staring quietly at the area of the tent where Oliver used to sleep, without any urgency or much of anything behind his expression. His shoes are the only item of clothing he’s removed, and his outfit is distinctly missing his bright yellow robe or his kimono to demarcate where the Army ends and their own little slice of Korea begins.
In excellent news, Trapper had taken the liberty of lowering the tent flaps while Hawkeye was out, preventing Hawkeye from needing a good explanation for doing so now that didn’t outright say: ‘We need privacy because I want to seduce you. Is it working?’
Hawkeye shuffles out of his boxers underneath the robe as quietly and efficiently as he can and has fully committed to Operation Seduction by the time he steps out of them. It’s a risky flirtation, especially when the cause of Trapper’s mood seems to be from his family back in the States, but Hawkeye knows that Trapper will keep ruminating on it until he gets a good enough distraction or talks it out. When he’s on a hot streak, he can usually achieve both in the same night and he is certain that whatever Trapper’s thinking about, it can’t be helping him move on.
It’s only when Hawkeye starts to pour himself a drink from the still that Trapper’s gaze falls on him with a faintly curious glint. When Hawkeye doesn’t say anything other than a nod of acknowledgement, the glint fades quickly back into a neutral expression. There isn’t much in the still so he only fills the martini glass up halfway, which suits him fine, and he artfully plonks an olive into the drink. Let the people know that Hawkeye Pierce is a man of pure class.
Without further ado, Hawkeye saunters over to Trapper and perches sideways on the edge of his cot, leaning one hand on Trapper’s leg while the other holds his glass away from the blankets. “This handsome fellow cornered me while I was out strolling and told me there was a man inside of this tent desperate for some private entertainment. An auburn-haired, all-American Heisman nominee with legs for days. Have you seen him?”
Trapper snorts and whacks his arm without any heat. “I’d say he saw you coming and went running in the other direction.”
Hawkeye makes a meal out of looking Trapper up and down before sighing in faux-disappointment, “Well, I suppose you’ll do in that case.”
Trapper leans towards Hawkeye to put his glass onto the bedside table and rubs his eyes. “I’m fine, Hawk, really, you don’t gotta babysit me. I’m just tired and I’m not great company right now.”
“Uh-uh. I think you’ve spent enough time inside that head of yours alone this week. I have it on good authority that the mind of John McIntyre is a terrifying place: all sorts of lechery and perversion happening inside there. If you hang out there any longer tonight, people will start talking and then what will happen to your reputation, hmm?”
Trapper leans forward and covers Hawkeye’s hand where it’s still resting on Trapper’s knee. “It’s been a tough week, alright? I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll get over this whole… thing soon enough and then we can go back to our usual jokes and japes, honest.”
Hawkeye nods. He tilts his head back and swallows his drink in one long gulp, regretting it the moment he remembers how much worse the still dregs are to get down. He places his empty glass next to Trapper’s and looks him dead in the eye. “I understand, Trap. You need some time away from the others, no pranks, and no audience to perform to.”
His hand creeps up to Trapper’s shoulder, where he massages up and down with the intent of grounding Trapper and soothing one of the knots they all get. Hawkeye’s thumb caresses the strip of skin where Trapper’s neck meets his collarbone and he lowers his volume, making sure he’s concise as he says, “Let me help you out. I’ll take charge and you won’t have to think about anything you don’t want to, scout’s honor.”
Trapper blinks at him a few times and his eyebrows narrow slightly, searching for something in Hawkeye’s expression. A few extra butterflies in his stomach always appear to start a party whenever Trapper looks at him that way. Like Hawkeye’s someone worth analyzing, someone he needs to translate and examine until Trapper figures out the word he didn’t know that connects the dots. A man would do a lot to get someone like Trapper to keep looking at him like that. After living this many months in each other’s pockets, Hawkeye’s learned to recognize the tells of when Trapper has decided he’s satisfied that he understands Hawkeye in the moment; so when Trapper reaches up to grab at Hawkeye’s hand, squeezing it tightly, he recognizes the gesture as its own Welcome sign and initiates stage two of his plan.
He climbs onto Trapper’s cot as dignified as he can (which is to say, not at all for a man of his height and an army regulation-sized bed) and straddles his lap, getting close and personal with Trapper’s thighs before resting his arms around his shoulders.
Trapper meets his gaze up close and gives him that soft crooked smile that makes Hawkeye reconsider becoming a poet on the side. He lets out a sigh as Hawkeye gets comfortable and curls a hand in the fabric of Hawkeye’s robe at the waist. His other hand plays with the drawstring belt which is keeping Hawkeye’s surprise underneath intact, winding one end loosely around his fingers. When Hawkeye leans in and kisses him, Trapper uses the belt to tug him further in without hesitation.
Hawk cups Trapper’s chin to deepen the kiss and he captures Trapper’s smile with his lips for a blissful couple of seconds before they melt into each other.
When he leans back to see Trapper’s expression, he’s only allowed a quick glance before Trapper reels him back in, pressing himself into Hawkeye’s chest. Trapper kisses like they’re on a break in a boring post-op shift and there’s no space in the closet they’ve locked themselves into for a few minutes of alone time. He tries not to shiver when Trapper’s hand creeps up from his waist to the small of his back but Trapper’s chest puffs in a slight laugh anyways. It’s been three weeks since the last time they got the opportunity for this alone time (not that he’s counting) and Hawkeye realizes he’s missed the feeling of Trapper over him, touching him with intent and want, something terrible.
“Missed you, doll,” Trapper mumbles as his lips wander down Hawkeye’s face to his ear then his neck. Hawkeye grinds down on his lap and bites down a noise when Trapper briefly sucks at his pulse point in response.
His fingers are curled in Trapper’s hair before he even notices his left hand has moved without his permission and they tighten their grasp as Trapper nips at his throat. Trapper groans and adjusts his grip on Hawkeye to hold him tighter.
Hawkeye has to stop himself from grinning like the cat that caught the canary when he feels Trapper make his way down his collarbone, peppering kisses down the stretch of skin. He closes his eyes again and allows himself to stay in the moment when Trapper pushes down the shoulder of his robe for better access to Trapper’s favorite spot to leave a hickey, and suddenly pauses.
There’d been a laundry mix-up yesterday when Hawkeye got some of his more colorful clothing items back on a rush job. A few items of lingerie of questionable origin were twisted up inside the pockets of gaudy floral shirts when he untangled them, alongside the socks sent from Crabapple Cove that he always washed separate from his military drab. He intends to return the lingerie to its rightful owner—whoever claims it from the bulletin board—but earlier he’d figured that a few extra days missing-in-action couldn’t hurt.
The semi-sheer bra that Hawkeye had fastened himself in the shower tent wasn’t especially complicated to put on; it was a gorgeous shade of ivory with some yellow and green embroidery around the band which climbed up the cups. When he glances down, the bra strap and the upper half of the right cup are clearly visible and Trapper is tracing it reverently with his index finger. Hawkeye can’t tell if Trapper has noticed the underwear underneath his robe that’s parted slightly more but is hidden reasonably well by their chests. The matching panties are matching in ivory featuring more detailed embroidered flowers, tied together by a decorative ribbon lace tied in the middle. It’s not Hawkeye’s personal style, but Trapper enjoys patterns more than Hawkeye does and he’s lucky it fits over his shoulder.
Trapper moves to peppering kisses around the bra strap and follows the curve down to Hawkeye’s chest, which Hawkeye arches back to allow him to do it with a sigh. A hand suddenly squeezes the bra cup from inside of the robe and Hawk’s heart leaps up out of his chest at the press of Trapper’s palm over his nipple.
Trapper leans away and is smirking when Hawkeye’s head snaps down to see what he’s up to. “Congratulations on finally finishing puberty, Hawk. We all knew you’d fill out eventually.”
Before Hawkeye can respond to that, Trapper’s thumb is caressing Hawkeye’s nipple through the bra with a firm touch as his other hand moves slowly up Hawkeye’s front. He isn’t able to keep the whimper he lets out at bay, his skin still sensitive after showering. His arm tenses where it’s thrown over Trapper’s shoulder and he grips the back of Trapper’s shirt collar, his nails occasionally catching and scratching his neck. Hawkeye catches his breath and grins, feeling proud of himself all over again.
“I thought you deserved something special, you fink. When’s the last time a gal dressed up this nice for you and had her wicked way with you instead of wanting you to do all the work?”
Trapper kisses his cheek softly and rests his cheek against Hawkeye’s own. “You’re the best army wife I could’ve asked for.”
“Then wife me up already and fuck me, Trapper,” he punctuates the thought with two quick rolls of his hips onto Trapper’s lap where he can feel the outline of Trapper’s cock through his pants. Trapper moans and pinches Hawkeye’s side in retaliation, causing Hawkeye to yelp. “Make an honest woman out of me. We haven’t got the entire night to ourselves.”
“So pushy, doll.”
“You could do with more women bossing you around here. Margaret hates you but she’s softer on you than on me. I’m the only one immune to your wicked charms and curly locks and those dumb brown eyes, apparently.”
“Immune, huh?”
Trapper grabs onto Hawkeye and flips him so he’s spread out on the cot while Trapper reverses their position from earlier. Hawkeye’s pupils dilate as he takes in all of Trapper leering over him. “How’s that for immunity?”
Before Hawkeye can respond, Trapper pulls off his shirt with one hand and unbuckles his belt before reaching for Hawkeye’s robe to untie it and expose his lingerie underneath.
As the air hits his skin, the feeling of his cock straining in the tight underwear becomes a much more pressing issue. There’s a small patch of precum semi-visible where his erection is pressing in, not to mention the stickiness of lube hastily applied earlier between his legs. He prepared himself as fast and thoroughly as he could in the shower, which is part of the reason why he wants Trapper to get to the main show sooner than later. He loves the sensation of Trapper’s fingers working him open and will certainly get a taste of it tonight, but they don’t have all night to re-prep so they don’t have time to waste.
Hawkeye gets both hands on Trapper’s waistband and tucks his thumbs inside to rub at the skin underneath to encourage him to finish getting undressed. Trapper pauses to eye up Hawkeye laid out for him and the weight of his gaze on Hawkeye’s lanky body makes the butterflies from earlier start bouncing off the walls. It takes all of his small self-restraint to hurry them up. “Come on,” he whines. “If you don’t hurry up and fuck me, I’m going to hold you down so you can’t touch me and take a ride.”
“It’s just like Ma used to say: behind every great man is a great woman, plowing him.”
“That’s for next week, darling,” Hawkeye quips and Trapper pauses with his pants at his knees, looking thoughtful. Trapper shucks off his pants and throws them to the side of the bed furthest from the door before getting onto his hands and knees above Hawkeye.
He has enough time to shrug the robe off his arms while Trapper gives him a quick kiss. When that’s off, Trapper leans down and licks a determined stripe up the length of Hawkeye’s underwear, from the slightly damp patch where lube had leaked while he was walking back to the tent all the way up to the skin where the underwear band ends. Hawkeye’s breathing is ragged as he arches into the touch, careful not to move too erratically in the small space they’re working with.
Trapper’s nails scratch lightly down Hawkeye’s thighs as his head dips further down to lick and suck at his cock through the underwear, bringing Hawkeye to full hardness with a groan. The swirl of Trapper’s tongue and press of it are all he can focus on as Trapper goes down on him exactly the same way he does when he’s teasing a woman. (Hawkeye has that one double date they went on with nurses where they both put out seared into his memories, not least because of the sounds Trapper made barely a foot away from him.) It doesn’t arouse him quite the same as the few times when Trapper has actually eaten him out, but the knowledge that he’s getting the Big John Special is definitely doing something to him. He hums in appreciation when Trapper moves to lick just next to his cock on each side, reveling in the feel of Trapper’s cheek brushing against his cock as he teases him.
“You look so good, baby,” Trapper punctuates the term of endearment with a kiss over the tip of Hawkeye’s cock. He rubs his hands across Hawkeye’s thighs and up to his sides, paying attention to each small curve and divot with his hands. “So pretty. God, I wish I could have you like this every day with a lock on the door, only the two of us sharing the room, and have you waiting for me exactly like this after I finish work.”
Hawkeye can most certainly work with that direction. He wasn’t sure if Trapper had picked up on the undercurrents of the jokes he’s made because they’re not really ones for roleplay unless they’re in the middle of a really involved bit, so this turn is a welcome surprise.
“I’m so glad you’re back here with me now, darling. They work you too hard,” he adds, reaching a hand down to stroke Trapper’s hair and his cheek. “What can I do to help you relax?”
Trapper doesn’t need a second to think about it before he blurts, “I need you to touch me, Hawk.”
He dutifully scoots himself up the bed so he’s partially supported by the beam behind him instead of laying down. He hadn’t noticed Trapper took his boxers off and is greeted by the beautiful sight of Trapper’s dick bobbing up, just as erect as Hawkeye feels. He reaches for Trapper’s shaft and finally gets a hand around him, stroking ever so slowly up the shaft while looking up at Trapper’s face with his eyelids half-closed.
“Hawk, baby, I,” Trapper breathes, “Can I…?”
Trapper’s eyes are firmly on Hawkeye’s chest. Hawkeye doesn’t need any more clarification before running with the most likely scenario. He leans even more forward and grasps Trapper’s cock with both hands, Trapper moving with him as he rests Trapper’s cock right between his breasts and strokes him a few times, leaning backwards to accommodate the angle. The shuddering breath Trapper lets out into Hawkeye’s hair is so needy that he knows he made the right choice as he rubs his thumb to smear Trapper’s precum in circles.
Before he can overthink it, Hawkeye is loosening the underband of his bra to make room and he slots Trapper’s cock firmly between his tits underneath the coverage of the brassiere. Trapper’s moan has a slight wince behind it—shockingly, sweat isn’t enough to lubricate one’s chest—and so he puts one hand up to Trapper’s mouth, dragging two fingers across his bottom lip to get across his message.
Trapper’s mouth opens greedily; his eyes blink close as he takes Hawkeye’s fingers inside and coats them in as much saliva as he can, sucking on each of them even when Hawkeye adds a third to be sure he can cover the full width of Trapper’s dick. When he’s confident it’ll be sufficient to make this go smoother, he starts jerking Trapper off in earnest, pressing his pecs together to create what little additional friction he can add on as he moves his chest up and down Trapper’s cock. For a moment, Hawkeye fantasizes that Trapper might be able to come just from this and that he’ll coat Hawkeye’s neck, chest, and face with his cum before he can even pause to warn him that he’s close. He palms his cock briefly to relieve some of the pressure and groans alongside Trapper.
“Shit, Hawkeye, you feel so good. Let me fuck you, please. I need you, I need to fill you up.”
Hawkeye twists his wrist around the tip of Trapper’s cock to hear that specific moan he uses as a metric for measuring when Trapper’s on the edge. “Yeah. I want you to fuck me pregnant, John, need you inside me now. You said you’d make an honest woman of me and I’m ready. I prepped myself for you in the shower.”
“Fuck.”
They both quickly untangle from each other so that Hawkeye can undress and Trapper can grab the tin of KY hidden near his bedside table. Hawkeye shimmies out of the underwear and balls it up to throw in a corner where it’s likely not to be seen by anyone who comes in, in case they forget it later. He’s debating whether to keep the top half of the lingerie on when Trapper sits back on the cot and gestures at Hawkeye to move closer to him. He reaches around Hawkeye and gently unclasps the bra, leaning close enough to see over Hawkeye’s back. With a gentle touch, he helps Hawkeye pull it over his head and tosses it with the other clothes.
Trapper rests his arms around Hawkeye’s neck and kisses him again, taking the chance to cup Hawkeye’s chin. “I wish I could eat you out for the next hour, but I don’t want to waste your hard work from earlier, beautiful.”
Once a pillow has been settled firmly under Hawkeye’s ass, Trapper gets to work on stretching him out with extra lube. Hawkeye isn’t ashamed to say he moans on every other stroke of Trapper’s fingers inside of him, since anyone who’s slept with Hawkeye Pierce can attest to the fact that he’s just as loud in bed as he is out of it. Being able to say you’ve had Trapper John’s fingers inside of you is enough to make up for how distracted Hawkeye gets when he sees those fingers flexing when throwing a football across the compound, or watching Trapper handle delicate samples.
The first push of Trapper’s cock finally inside of him feels amazing. They usually stick to hand-jobs or head so they’ve only had penetrative sex a few times outside of Tokyo. Hawkeye becomes embarrassingly easy after a few months pass without bottoming so he’s an enthusiastic participant when the chance arises.
He can see the beads of sweat fall down Trapper’s face as he focuses on slowly moving inside and keeping Hawkeye’s legs spread just right.
When the strokes gain power as Hawkeye relaxes into it more, Hawkeye can’t help observing Trapper for his reactions.
While he’d initiated the bit of roleplay that they’d talked around in the past from Trapper’s signals, he had been a little concerned that Trapper might get too caught up in the past and elsewhere. Instead, this seems to have worked exactly as he’d hoped: Trapper looks completely in the moment, sweat dripping down his chest as he listens and responds to every noise Hawkeye makes as if they were clear instructions.
Like he could hear Hawkeye’s thoughts and took them as a challenge, Trapper meets his gaze and throws him a wink that makes Hawkeye laugh and dig his heels into Trapper’s thighs. That grin only widens as Trapper grabs Hawkeye’s ass and positions him further up so Trapper can hit his prostate as he bends down to suck on Hawkeye’s nipples in turn. There’s a reverence in how Trapper touches his chest, tracing the nipple he isn’t currently sucking, and moving up and down his chest like he’s trying to memorize Hawkeye’s every divot and scar and hair like it was their first time. Maybe they are new people every time they do this: another layer of self peels off as the intimacy between them grows, while more scars add up for them to learn when every day in Korea lasts a month.
Trapper groans, “You’re so good, such a good girl for me, baby.”
“You mean that, Trap?”
“Hawkeye, I would fuck you all night if we could. You drive me crazy, you’re so wet and tight for me. You treat me so well, doll.”
With that last endearment, Trapper lets go of one of Hawkeye’s legs and leans up to take Hawkeye’s dick in hand. At this point, he’s been leaking precum steadily and there’s enough for Trapper to smooth some down his whole shaft alongside a squirt of lube and fully cover Hawkeye. The wet heat of Trapper’s hand wrapped fully around his girth while he’s being fucked into the cot is enough to make him see stars for a few seconds. It’s fantastic, it’s overwhelming, it’s Trapper.
He knows that he doesn’t have the stamina to last much longer at this pace when it’s been a while since he last jerked off. He doesn’t want to cum until Trapper does, though, so he makes a sacrifice.
“Trapper,” Hawkeye warns between gasps. The warning isn’t loud enough and Hawkeye grabs Trapper’s wrist and taps urgently, which gets the message across. He loosens his grip on Hawkeye’s cock and Hawkeye moves his hand up to his stomach, holding Trapper’s hand down in place.
“Get me pregnant,” Hawkeye demands, “I want to feel you deep inside me, up here. Maybe it’ll take the first time.”
“Fuck, I’m so close. Gonna knock you up and you’ll never leave me.”
“Please . I’m all yours, Trapper, just keep doing that.”
“You’ll be my kept man, yeah?” Hawkeye nods furiously, eyes stinging slightly as he tries not to touch himself until after Trapper’s finished. “Fuck. I don’t know what I’d do without you around, doll.”
Trapper’s breath catches and his other hand reaches up to grab the side of Hawkeye’s neck with a thumb resting on the side of his face. Hawkeye hooks his legs around Trapper’s waist and pushes him deeper inside with the strength he has left. At that point, Trapper shakily thrusts twice more before he cums with a cut-off moan. Hawkeye is letting out a string of curses and pushing himself back onto Trapper’s cock, trying to savor all of him and the feeling of the cum rushing in and coating him all the way to his prostate.
Before Trapper even finishes pulling out, Hawkeye reaches desperately to fist his own cock. He only gets one pump before Trapper is pushing his hand aside, grasping the shaft and taking Hawkeye completely in his mouth.
Trapper uses a hand to lightly rub his balls with the exact amount of pressure he knows that Trapper knows makes Hawkeye go crazy. Trapper might be the only man he’s slept with that doesn’t let that post-orgasm bliss stop him from getting to business first and it’s a surprise every time. It doesn’t take him long to cum at all with the unexpected pleasure sparking at Trapper giving him head, quick and dirty with no mercy.
Hawkeye lets out a few “Ah!”s in warning because he isn’t capable of speech with Trapper’s mouth on him, then his whole body tenses and he climaxes with a shout. Trapper swallows it all, letting some drip from his mouth as Hawkeye’s cum streams out fast and hot after the tension he’s been holding in bursts. Hawkeye lets out a keening noise when Trapper licks his overly sensitive tip. Trapper sits back up, wiping the mix of precum, saliva, and semen from his chin with a wry grin.
Five minutes later, they’ve cleaned each other up as best as they can without walking to the shower. They’ve put on clothes again so they can curl up under the covers of Trapper’s bunk with more plausible deniability. Unfortunately, naked cuddling isn’t a luxury anyone at the 4077th gets, unless they bribe someone to lock the supply room all night with the full knowledge that something will go wrong at the camp the moment you feel like you have real privacy.
His head is pillowed on Trapper’s chest underneath his chin, resting with his face towards his own bunk across the room. Their legs are tangled together under the sheets, and this? This is new territory for them after sex. It would scare Hawkeye but he makes a point not to feel anything except blissed out after good sex.
A hand reaches out and hovers above Hawkeye’s head where he can feel it in the air. He nudges his head forward and Trapper’s hand drops onto Hawkeye’s hair. Hawkeye hums and nuzzles into the tentative strokes of his hair.
“Thanks, Hawk.”
“All in an honest day’s work.”
He knows Trapper is rolling his eyes above him and makes a contended noise. “You wanna talk about what’s been eating at you today?”
Trapper’s answer is swift, “God, no.” But he stills for a minute and Hawkeye feels it when Trapper’s chest deflates again. “Probably should, though.”
“It’s been tough adjusting since Tuesday. Someone really needed me, y’know? And then it turns out he didn’t need me at all and I was a poor replacement for the person who was waiting for him the whole time. I got everyone’s hopes up and I guess I was too worried about breaking the news to everyone in Boston to break the news to myself until today.”
Hawkeye isn’t quite sure how to respond so he kisses Trapper’s chest and wraps his arm tighter around Trapper’s middle.
“Hey. Hawkeye.” He lifts his head up to put his chin on Trapper’s chest and dutifully grants Trapper his full attention at being called. He bats his eyes in an attempt at coquettishness.
Trapper indulges him with a wink. When Hawkeye’s face returns to neutral, though, Trapper drops the one sentence he wasn’t expecting to hear, “You know I love you, right?”
Time stops. All Hawkeye hears is the beating of their hearts from where he’s curled up on Trapper’s chest.
“I think there’s always gonna be a part of you left in me, no matter where we are after Korea. Maybe the only good part of me that’s left if this war lasts another two years or worse.”
Hawkeye knows the script. He knows he ought to respond with a dick joke to change the topic completely and get Trapper back onto the acceptable conversation. Or he could lay his cards on the table and say how much he wants Trapper to want him in his life, here and afterwards. How he’s also afraid to hope for things to go right except for when Trapper backs him up. He’ll do what he knows is right regardless, but it’s only when Trapper’s in it with him that he feels confident whatever scheme will work. Maybe one day PierceandMcIntyre will suddenly just be Pierce and he’s scared it’ll feel just like when Carlye disappeared.
Neither feels right for the moment.
“I know, Trapper. I,” Hawkeye starts and then swallows. His mouth is inexplicably dry. “It’s the same for me.”
Trapper doesn’t push him to say more. His expression is inscrutable but he doesn’t seem displeased with Hawkeye’s response, so he moves his head back down to its previous position and readjusts his position.
Ten minutes pass by with no sound other than their breathing and excerpts of the film being screened in the mess tent floating in and out. Trapper’s hand is drawing lazy circles on Hawkeye’s scalp. Hawkeye’s breathing has evened out with exhaustion and he closes his eyes, feigning sleep in the hope of actually catching a brief nap before they have to separate for Frank’s impending arrival.
“You were so good with Kim. I think you’d be a good dad, Hawk.” Trapper remarks quietly, in the same tone they’d use to talk about the weather. “You know, I hope I’m half the father that Daniel Pierce must have been to raise you.”
He keeps his breaths even, even though all he wants to do is turn around and bury his face into Trapper’s neck with his arms wrapping tight around Trapper’s shoulders in an embrace. He doesn’t open his eyes and tries to keep his muscles relaxed despite the fact that he can feel every word Trapper says from his chest.
He doesn’t know if Trapper is saying this because he thinks Hawkeye is asleep. He suspects that Trapper knows that he’s still awake and is saying that anyways, allowing him the out of continuing to feign sleep which lifts a weight off his chest he hadn’t known he had. He’s never been great at deception with Trapper.
“I don’t know if I would’ve been as understanding and helpful if I had been in your shoes,” Trapper admits. He huffs, annoyed but otherwise still. “I wish I knew what that meant.”
Finally, Hawkeye allows himself to drift off to sleep while a hand continues to card through his hair and another moves to rest on the middle of his back. Trapper will wake him up when it’s time for them to go.