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To mess around with two people at once isn't easy — it's a risky business when the parties aren't aware of each other (which is usually the case) and the guilt that comes along with it is usually only secondary to the pleasure of the flesh which it provides. However, with Benjamin 'Hawkeye' Pierce and 'Trapper' John McIntyre it was different: hey were aware of each other, they knew exactly how deeply you were involved with the other and yet still acted in such a way that any guilt you felt was assuaged. They didn't care and were fully supporting of your intimacy with both of the men, or so they said, but what about how you felt? Being with either of them was lovely; they were rakes and womanizers sure, and you certainly weren't the only nurse in camp who enjoyed their company, but they were two of the most considerate men and were lovely enough that this didn't bother you (nor should it, as you were doing the same). But something didn't feel quite right about the arrangement. There was something that you weren't saying, and you felt that there was something the two men were keeping to themselves too, but the exact nature remained elusive.
As time went on, though, both your feelings and theirs came into a greater focus. A painful, aching focus which felt more constricting than not having either of them as occasional partners at all. For you, it was that you wanted it to be different for them. You wanted desperately for them to think of all the other people in camp who they met in small, secret locations, as merely placations, as place holders for the next time they could see you.
And the more you thought about it, the more you felt (hoped) it may be the same for them, that both Pierce and McIntyre wanted you to feel something unique to just them, something you felt for no other, not even the other man. There was something in the way that they looked at each other around you, at you when you mentioned the other, when you walked past them chatting up another nurse. But this, this differentiation, this choosing, this was something you couldn't give them anymore than they could make their relationship to you exclusive to the detriment of all the other nurse's attention. And so the three of you continued on as usual, one night you would meet up with Hawkeye and the next Trapper, and you put off matters of emotion for those physical needs that would be quickly and messily fulfilled before returning to your tent and avoiding the other man's gaze the following morning in the operating room, for some guilt wracked you even when you knew there was no need, when surely they didn't feel this same pain when meeting with another in the camp. But except for the pain, this arrangement worked at the time, it was easy, it was comfortable and its quickness and rush put off any chance for deeper thinking or intimacy.
A broken machine can only keep working for so long, though, and just like it must break down after chugging along desperately for too long, so did the arrangement you had with Hawkeye and Trapper fall apart. It wasn't slow as one would've expected but abrupt, and the catalyst of the collapse occurred in the evening one day, after a relievingly short stint of work (something rare and cherished). You were with Hawkeye in the Swamp, alone as Trapper and Burns were still finishing up with some of the straggling soldiers who were the last in the triage order. You were supposed to be meeting up with Trapper later, but Hawkeye was able to get away earlier and you bumped into each other in the mess tent and so here you were, in his crappy, squeaky bunk lazily attached to each other. The air was thick and dusty and neither of you had had the chance to shower yet, but there was a desperation which the warm weather brought with it and it seemed to have infected the two of you deeply, deeper than it should have. Deep, long kisses were placed onto your lips by Pierce, your breaths filling the tent and filling each other's lungs. You didn't usually do things like this in the Swamp, where the others could walk in, where Trapper could walk in. But Hawkeye was so convincing (and charming) that your inhibitions went out the window the second you went in the door, and he assured you that you would have at least an hour alone and that you could pull down the tent flaps and you knew you could never say no to that. And that led to your current situation, where there you were, kissing and touching Hawkeye and desperately pulling him closer, whispering in his ear what you needed, what you wanted, even if it was only a distraction, and he always gave you what you needed. He placed gentle bites along your neck and mouthed at your ear as he undid your stiff cargo pants, slowly moving them below your knees, and then turned and removed his own pants as well, bringing them to lay on the dirt ground beside the bunk. And then he was lining his length up with your entrance and slowly, slowly, pushed himself inside you, and a moan escaped your mouth just as the tent door opened with a clattering sound.
The second you heard it your heart stopped, and you weighed the possibilities of who was opening it against your own wishes as to who it was. The most likely suspects were Burns or Trapper, but you didn't want to think it was the latter, not right now, so you thought about it being Burns and resolved yourself to an indignant shriek about professionalism and exhibitionism and perversion. Even so, this wasn't so bad, it wasn't like he hadn't done the same with Major Houlihan and at the end of the day there was no real consequences to being caught by him, and so your heart resumed. But then no yelling came, no scoff or gasp or slamming of the door as the unwilling witness fled from the scene, but instead a silence, which you feared could only mean one thing. Slowly tearing your eyes away from the roof which they had been pasted onto as a defense mechanism from the forthcoming embarrassment, you saw him. Trapper was standing at the door, only his silhouette visible due to the setting sun behind casting light onto his figure. Shit shit shit. You knew that Trapper knew what you did with Hawkeye, and you knew he was okay with it, and vice versa, but something felt wrong here. You didn't want Trapper to see you like this, desperate and stupid and open for someone else beside him, not when you were supposed to be meeting with him in less than half an hour and doing the same routine. The light slowly subsided and you could make out his features, and just as soon as you could you wish you had never looked. There was a look in his eye as he looked between you and Hawkeye above you, down to where the two of you connected, that was indescribably painful to witness. It was something between surprise, shock, love and jealousy, and as it bored into you your chest dropped and you felt tears being to well in your eyes. There was something wrong here, this was wrong and you were wrong and you couldn't stop it, not as you pushed Hawkeye out of you and began to call Trapper's name, not as he turned around and left the tent without a word, and not as you sat up and stared at the closed door as your breathing quickened and tears began to slip down your cheeks.
Immediately Hawkeye took your face into his hands and looked at you with a deep concern that morphed into something like sadness and realization as you continued to breath out shallow sobs. "What's wrong, honey?" he asked and gazed deep into your eyes as you turned to look at him. "I- I don't know. I'm sorry, I-I don't know why I'm crying, I-," Hawkeye cut you off, "It's okay, it's okay, I know and it's okay. You…", he took a short breath and continued, "You love him, don't you? Trapper, I mean. You can't pretend you don't and I'm not stupid enough to not see it." You immediately shook your head, "It's not that, I mean, I don't know… But Hawkeye, I do know I love you, which you probably don't want to hear because it messes a lot of what we have going on up." Hawkeye's eyes widened only slightly and he began, "I-," but you cut him off. "But Hawkeye, listen, I think I also love Trapper," and the glint that had darted across Pierce's eye immediately left and he looked down for a second before looking back up at you. "You can't do that." Your eyebrows furrowed as you wiped your eye and looked at him directly again. "Hawkeye, what do you mean?" "You know I love to see you and do this, but you can't say that, you can't do that. You can't love both of us and expect us both to love you back and still keep doing what we're doing, you seeing both of us and then acting like this when you're faced with the reality of it." "Hawkeye… ", you paused as your mind raced with what to say, feeling both oddly angry and defensive at the sudden confrontation, "I can't help how I feel or how you feel, that's not on me." "Then help me" he said, firmly but without edge, "Because you and I and- and Trapper, we all know we can't keep going on like this if its turning into something else, something painful and real because then we will all end up getting hurt. I know you care for us both, and like what we both can do for you but you… You have to choose, babe." "Hawkeye, I- I," your breath hitched as he looked up at you expectantly with those eyes you loved, the deep blue that seemed to extend far, far away. You wanted to say you chose him, that you loved only him, but you would be lying and he would know it, because Trapper was nestled into your heart right next to Hawkeye. "I can't" you finally said, and watched as Hawkeye's eyes hardened and his gaze tore away from you. "Then I think maybe you should go," he said, and the words hit you as if he had ripped your skin from your chest with his own hand. "Hawkeye… Pierce… Ben, don't make me do this," you pleaded, but he wouldn't answer and you were forced to keep your eyes on the ground as you pulled your pants and boots back on with heaving shoulders and held-back whimpers. You looked back one last time as you opened the door and left, but no baby blues met your eyes, and you felt as if you were an anchor who had been severed from its ship and left lost in an endless and stormy ocean.
Hawkeye was Hawkeye, though, and Trapper was Trapper. He was someone else, and perhaps where you had lost one ship you could find refuge in your attachment to the other, especially when you had an appointment with the other ship and also had some explaining to do to him. So when you sat beside Trapper in the mess tent and nudged his shoe with yours and he begrudgingly moved his gaze from his plate to you, you made sure that you were still on for your scheduled meeting tonight, even though something in his eyes made you feel as if he would really rather cancel the plan. So you didn't push it, and you got up and moved to sit with the other nurses and hoped that by the time you and him were supposed to get in the jeep and drive a little ways from camp that you would know what to say and do and that he would have forgot what he saw or at least how it made him feel.
Such a selfish hope was not fulfilled though, and the eerily silent drive to the small but secluded outcrop on the edge of camp did nothing to assuage the pit rooted in your stomach. Your head hurt as you thought about what to say, what you should say. After all, you didn't do anything wrong, did you? It's not like he didn't know you and Hawk were fucking, he had indirectly approved of it several times just as Hawk did for you and Trap. But something still felt wrong, that there was something that needed to be addressed about the situation and that touching each other and forgetting it wasn't the way to do it. That was how Trapper wanted to do it though, and without a word having been exchanged he was immediately over you, taking off your clothes and throwing them to the side along his own. He was still gentle, but there was some underlying ferocity in his actions and it didn't feel good, and there were no kisses being placed upon your head as he usually gave you. He was angry and you were sad, and you both only knew to figure it out through this frenzied dance. You let him, though, because really it was the only thing you could do for him right now, the only apology you could make. And so as he pushed himself into you you forgot yourself for a moment and let passion take over, and when you reached up and pulled on his curls bringing your mouths together, he finally reciprocated. Only for a moment, though, and then he pulled away abruptly to focus on thrusting harder and harder into you, chasing something that you couldn't give him right now and you knew it. So you bit back the tears in your eyes and spoke, the first words between you that night, "Trap, stop. I can't." And he immediately stopped with an exasperated but knowing sigh, an acknowledgement that having sex right now wasn't going to help a single thing. He was an asshole sometimes, but he was right and smart and you could trust him, and you were-, "McIntyre, I'm sorry." He laughed and you felt the vibration of it through your body, a comfort beyond words. "What're ya sorry for?" he asked in that accent of his, but he didn't look up for a second. But you didn't answer, and finally his deep brown eyes met yours and you saw in them a multitude of emotions but one that pierced into you, something sad and desperate.
"You know… For what you saw back there," you said with a frown. Again he laughed, but again it felt somewhat hollow. He sighed and replied, "Honey, I know what you an' Hawk get up to, it's the same as what we do, 's no surprise to me." "I know, but-," "Hey, no buts Lieutenant, you can't be be doing this kind of thing if you're gonna be feeling bad about it, its not good for you." Taking a deep breath, you looked down and said "That's what I wanna talk about Trap. I don't think I can do this anymore, not with both of you like this." His face faltered for a second, dropping from a feigned indifference to something slightly hurt then quickly recovering again. Another sigh from Trapper. "Well… That's okay, doll. You don't gotta do nothin' you don' wanna do." Silence, and then choked sob you were trying so so hard to hold back escaped you and you looked back up at him as he took your face into his two hands, big and strong and warm against your cheeks. At seeing this deep sadness being evoked by what you said a look of understanding passed through him. "Hey, hey, I get it, its okay. You- We- We don't have to do this anymore," he said, gesturing between the two of you and the jeep seat you were laid on. "You can just keep seeing Hawk. He's great, I get it, and I know I'm not-", "No!" you said with force, "John, its not-," the familiar name was rarely used between the two of you but it felt right at the moment. You took a breath, "its not like that. I'm not choosing him over you. What I'm saying is I want to choose both of you. I-I love you, Trap. But… I love Hawkeye too, the same amount, in different ways and at different times sure, but the same as I love you." At the sudden confession his eyebrows raised and his sullen expression was replaced with one both of elation, a slight blush spreading along his cheekbones, but also of confusion (or was it frustration? You couldn't tell.) "Okay, understood," he nodded a few times and then placed his hands on his knees and leaned forwards, fixing his gaze on you, "What do you want to do then?" You had to think for a second, but really the answer was easy in your mind (harder to say out loud). You squeezed your eyes tight in contemplation, then tipped your head to the sky and opened them, gazing at the stars and summoning their strength before looking back down. "I want to, well I wanted to ask you if- if we could maybe try… try doing it all… together?"
At the renewed expression of shock across his face, you scrambled to explain. "Like… Like not necessary it. We don't have to do that right away- or at all… I just. Okay, listen. I love you, and I love Hawkeye, and I love being with both of you but right now its both of you at different times. But I was thinking maybe we could be together, all at once… Or just try it," you waved your hands in an attempt at defense, but dropped them once you heard Trapper laughing again, this time in a way filled with real amusement and relief, no sharpness or anger. "Like a three-way?" he asked with a smirk, in response to which your cheeks began to burn. That was what you were asking for, yes, but put so plainly like that it sounded awfully dirty. You mustered a nod. "Woof, alright girly. You know what you want, huh?" McIntyre said with another chuckle, and all you could do was once again nod in response. You were ready for a dismissal of sorts, but before you could get to worrying about it he spoke again, "Hey, I'll talk to Hawk about it, okay? If its what you want who are we to deny you, just a pretty, lonely nurse confiding in two big, strong men such as ourselves?" Even through the comfort of these words, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the statement. "Really?" you asked. "Yup, you got my word, I'll talk to him." And with that he finally gave you that kiss on your forehead you had been waiting for (and an extra one on your neck) and started the jeep to drive the two of you back to camp. When you got back to your tent and laid down on the bunks you felt for the first time, for a long time, that maybe this could work out.
Your assurance was short lived though, as the whole next day you were unable to catch a moment to talk to either man between your being rotated through the pre-, post- and operating room. The few times you were in the same room in either Trapper or Hawkeye, and sought to catch their gaze, you never succeeded and this planted in you the fear that it was being purposefully avoided. Avoided because they decided you were asking something preposterous of them and they wouldn't entertain it? Maybe. But this is the scenario that stuck in your head and left you with a return of the earlier heaviness in your stomach until finally the shift ended and you, along with the two men tormenting you, were all able to scrub out, shower and return to your respective tents. Except you didn't return to the nurses tent afterwards, but hesitantly walked to the Swamp, after all you were supposed to meet with Hawkeye tonight. You knocked and a lump formed in your throat as you waited, until finally Hawkeye opened the door and his twinkling eyes met yours as he took hold of your hand and pulled you in. Soon you found yourself on his cot again, sitting on the edge and waiting for him to say anything. "So," he finally spoke, "Trapper talked to me about your… what should we call it… your special request?" and he let out a quick laugh he couldn't seem to keep in. This alone was enough to kick your embarrassment into overdrive, but when he said, "We're just so charming you can't help but want both of us at once, hey?" you couldn't help but cover your face with your hands entirely. "Why didn't you just say that last night? You had me thinking you wanted something we couldn't give you," for a second his smirk fell, "I'm sorry by the way, for how I responded to that. You said you loved me and all I could do was get snarky with you. Forgive me please," he said with a dramatic swoon onto your lap with his hand over his heart. He then looked up at you, "But what you actually want, it's something we can give you." Pierce cleared his throat and gestured to the door, where Trapper stood against the frame, arms crossed and smile plastered across his face. "It's something we are going to give you" Pierce finally said with a nod and coming closer to your ear, whispered, "Franks on leave right now." Which meant that you had the Swamp entirely to yourselves, that you had them entirely to yourselves, and this thought made your heart skip and your throat tighten, very much feeling threatened with a good time as McIntyre walked over to the bed and sat on the other side of you.
Before you could really grasp the reality of the situation, that you were finally going to get to have both of them, at once, together, they were leaning closer to you and placing their hands on your thighs, on your back, everywhere you wanted them to be and then everywhere you dreamed they would be. They were so gentle, so giving and obliging and it was everything you wanted it to be. Finally, there was no empty space, no absence that you felt yourself yearning for, no thinking of Trapper when you were with Hawkeye, no dreams of Hawkeye's touch when you were feeling Trapper's. Everything you wanted was right here, right now, on you, beside you, with you. In you. It was perfect, not just in the perverse manner of the flesh but in the manner of love, and when you finally all were spent and exhausted, lying on some blankets messily spread on the tent's dirt floor, you felt completely fulfilled, more so than ever since you were brought to this godforsaken place in this godforsaken war. Something had been accomplished, a dream realized, something infinitely good in this world of bad, so much so that you didn't feel overly sad when you were finally forced to shove the pair off and get up to leave. So much so that when you looked back and saw the pair facing each other, breathing gentle sleeping sighs into the space between them, that you never wanted something to work out as badly as this in your whole life.