Chapter Text
Hawkeye wasn’t sure what he expected from BJ and Peggy, but he’d cooked up a fantasy of the two of them ravishing him within an inch of his life before BJ even opened the bedroom door and gestured for the two of them to enter.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Hawkeye said, following Peggy into the room.
They seemed so at ease that for a moment he wondered if this was a regular occurrence for them, but once BJ had shut the door, all the two of them did was look at each other. Some silent communication passed between them, in quick gestures and expressions, before BJ said, “Hawkeye, we wanted to talk to you.”
“Well, I hoped you wanted to do a little more than just talk,” Hawkeye said. “When a girl gets invited up for coffee she has certain expectations, you know.”
Peggy giggled nervously, her cheeks pink. “We, um, we like you a lot, Hawkeye. BJ and I.”
He’d thought so, from the way they looked at him, but it was nice to hear, especially as earnestly as Peggy said it. “I like you a lot, too. Both of you.”
“Oh, good,” Peggy said, perching on the edge of the bed with a sigh of relief. Hawkeye glanced around, wondering if he should sit and where the best place to sit would be. There were two beds and a single chair awkwardly placed in the corner, facing them.
Peggy, as if noticing his debate, patted the bed next to her. Hawkeye went to sit beside her, and BJ sat on his other side, sandwiching him between the two of them. Hawkeye snaked an arm around Peggy’s waist and bumped against BJ as he laid a hand on Peggy’s back, wrapping his arm around Hawkeye in the same motion.
“You know, I haven’t asked anyone on a date since Peg,” BJ said.
“And I haven’t asked anyone on a date since BJ,” Peggy said.
“I asked someone on a date last Tuesday,” Hawkeye said, although actually he couldn’t recall the last real date he’d been on. “I took my grandma out for bingo and chowder.”
“You Casanova,” BJ said.
“Pot, meet kettle,” Hawkeye said. “I never would’ve guessed this was your first time recruiting a trois for your menage.”
“Is it yours?” Peggy asked curiously. “Or have you done this before?”
“Sure I have,” Hawkeye said, thinking back to Trapper and the nurses they had shared, now and then. “But not like this. Not with a married couple.”
That was what made him nervous about the whole thing. He liked them, he really did, but they were a unit, and he was just some outsider they liked the look of. There was nothing to stop them from having their fun and sending him on his way. Not that Hawkeye hadn’t done the same thing, plenty of women could attest to that, but now—
He really did like them, was the thing. BJ was funny and a little devious and he understood Hawkeye in a way that few people did, these days, and Peggy was sweet and clever and just as funny as her husband. He could see how the two of them fit together so well, could see how much they loved each other. It made him ache with wanting. It made him burn with envy. It made him want to insert himself into their lives like he’d always been there, and it made him want to turn and run before it all fell apart.
“Well, at least one of us knows what they’re doing,” Peggy said, although Hawkeye wasn’t really sure he did. If he did, he probably never would have walked into that hotel room with them.
“I’m sure the three of us could’ve figured it out if we put our heads together,” BJ said.
“That’s one way to do it,” Hawkeye said.
“Then let’s give it a try,” Peggy said, as she leaned in to kiss Hawkeye. He couldn’t help the startled moan he let out, which made her giggle—and of course, he couldn’t let her get away with that. He pulled her in closer, until she was sitting in his lap, as he kissed her breathless.
Peggy smiled at him sweetly as they separated, her arms still around Hawkeye’s shoulders, but her smile turned sly as she looked at BJ. “You’re not going to accuse poor Hawkeye of trying to seduce me and steal me away, are you?”
BJ, to Hawkeye’s delight, flushed. “Peggy!”
Hawkeye sensed a story. “What’s this about?”
“BJ thinks our handyman is in love with me,” Peggy said. She made a show of tapping on her chin thoughtfully. “What was it you said? His ripped sleeves, his muscular arms. He’s sooo tall, and he works out, and he’s even better looking than Errol Flynn.”
“I don’t talk like that!” BJ protested.
“You do when it comes to the handyman!” Peggy said.
“I don’t know, Beej, it sounds like you’re the one with a little crush on the handyman,” Hawkeye teased. “What’s this guy’s name, anyways?”
“I actually don’t remember,” Peggy admitted. “Kurt?”
“Carl,” BJ said, at the same time, in such a disgruntled tone that Hawkeye couldn’t help but laugh.
When he finally recovered, Hawkeye grinned at BJ. “So, how do I stack up against Errol Flynn and Carl the handyman?”
He expected a joke in response, but BJ looked at him with a sincerity that, for a moment, stunned him silent. “You blow them all out of the water.”
“Well,” Hawkeye said, falling back on jokes. “Speaking of blowing…”
BJ was quiet, and for a moment Hawkeye had worried that he had pushed too far. They hadn’t really discussed what arrangement they had in mind, and Hawkeye had only kissed Peggy; BJ might have intended for the two of them to share Peggy, rather than actually do anything with Hawkeye himself.
“I’d like a kiss, first,” BJ said, though.
Hawkeye grinned, giddy from relief and anticipation. “It would be my pleasure.”
Peggy shifted off his lap, giving them room, as BJ stood and stepped up to him. He looked down at Hawkeye for a moment, one hand gently cupping his cheek, and then he bent to kiss him.
Hawkeye laughed into the kiss, startled by the sensation of the mustache against his upper lip, and Peggy laughed with him. “It tickles, doesn’t it? I told him to shave that thing.”
“I’m sticking it to the man,” BJ murmured into Hawkeye’s mouth.
“It looks like a fuzzy caterpillar set up shop on your lip,” Peggy said.
“It does. But it’s kind of grown on me,” Hawkeye said.
“I think you’ll find it’s grown on me,” BJ said, and Hawkeye groaned and kissed him again.
BJ pulled back far too soon. Hawkeye wanted to ask for another kiss—one for the road, so to speak—but then, before Hawkeye could say anything, BJ knelt between his knees. It wasn’t what he’d meant, but he was hardly going to complain, especially not when BJ looked so gorgeous sitting there.
“I’ve never done this before, but I think I have a pretty good idea,” BJ said, with a cheeky little grin. “Lots of teeth, right?”
Hawkeye pinched his cheek playfully. BJ grinned at him before ducking his head as he turned his attention to Hawkeye’s belt, fumbling with it slightly as he tried to open the buckle. Hawkeye shifted his hips to make it easier for him to get Hawkeye’s pants down. He jolted, startled, when Peggy’s hand wrapped around his cock.
“Sorry,” she said, with an embarrassed little smile. He wondered if she had ever touched anyone other than BJ. Probably not, he guessed, if they had only ever asked out each other.
“No, no, touch me however you want. I’m all yours,” Hawkeye said.
He was half-hard already, and hardened further as Peggy touched him and BJ watched. Once he was fully hard, she pulled away, reaching down to brush her fingers through BJ’s hair. “All yours, darling.”
BJ hesitated, just for a moment. Hawkeye shifted, ready to tell him that it was fine, that Hawkeye had meant he could blow BJ, anyways, but then BJ took him in hand. He pumped his hand up and down a few times, as if testing the waters, before pressing his lips to the tip of Hawkeye’s cock.
Hawkeye tossed his head back and groaned as BJ went down on him.
“You’re—ah—a natural,” Hawkeye gasped. Apparently not satisfied with that, BJ bobbed his head—awkwardly, at first, until he got into a rhythm, and then he brought his hands into the mix. Hawkeye fell back on the bed with another moan, his eyes closing as if that would make everything a little less overwhelming. It was nothing he hadn’t experienced, somehow, but at the same time it felt like more than anything else he’d ever done.
When he opened his eyes, Peggy was looking down at him.
“Come up here,” he said, urging her to climb on top of him. She was wearing a skirt, thankfully. He grinned at her as he played with the hem before lifting it like a curtain, with an accompanying hummed bit of fanfare.
“Hawkeye,” Peggy said, but she was giggling too much to really scold him.
Hawkeye shot her one last grin before ducking under her skirt. He nosed her underwear aside and pressed a kiss to her folds before licking into her. She gasped, her hands going to his head, fingers tangling in his hair. Hawkeye moved with her hands, letting her press him against her. She was wet already, soaking his face as he buried himself between her legs. He moved one hand to shift her underwear further out of the way so he could tease her clit. Her thighs trembled as she moaned his name.
“Oh, Hawkeye. That—that feels wonderful—”
“Your husband doesn’t do this for you?” Hawkeye said, pausing to kiss her thighs.
“He does, but not like this,” Peggy said.
Hawkeye grinned. “Hear that, Beej? Sounds like I’m better than you.”
BJ pinched his inner thigh in response, hard enough that Hawkeye yelped and kicked him reflexively. “BJ!” Peggy scolded, laughing. “Behave yourself.”
BJ pulled off of him. “I’ll show you who’s better,” he said, before diving back in. He didn't take Hawkeye’s cock into his mouth, though, no—he moved lower, pulled Hawkeye’s hips further off the bed, and licked a stripe across his hole.
Hawkeye yelped again, startled, as BJ licked into him.
“What?” Peggy asked, wriggling above him. He realized, belatedly, that his fingers were digging into her thighs, and hastily loosened his grip. “What’s BJ doing?”
“Ah,” Hawkeye gasped, as BJ’s tongue plunged into him, pleasure curling in his stomach like a coil winding tighter and tighter. “He’s—fuck, Beej—eating me out—”
“Oh!” Peggy exclaimed, twisting to look. BJ didn’t stop for a second. Her fingers carded through his hair. “Does it feel good? How does it feel, darling?”
“Nng,” Hawkeye answered, which was answer enough, he thought.
BJ pulled away. “High praise.”
“Don’t stop,” Hawkeye complained, trying to nudge him back in with his feet.
“High praise indeed,” BJ said. “Bet I can make you come before you can make Peg come.”
Far be it from Hawkeye to back down from a challenge. “Oh, you’re on, Hunnicutt.”
“I sure am,” Peggy said, and Hawkeye had to suppress a laugh as he got back to work.
Soon, he had Peggy writhing above him, her thighs clenching around his head and her fingers tugging on his hair. Little gasps escaped her with every flick of his tongue, soft moans of, “Hawk—Hawkeye—”
She was close, he could tell, but so was he. He redoubled his efforts, trying to bring her to the edge before him. Peggy’s hips rocked into him, like even that still wasn’t enough, like she still wanted more, and she was so close—
Then BJ slipped a finger into him as his other hand went to Hawkeye’s cock, and Hawkeye went tumbling over the edge. He came with a shout, muffled against Peggy’s skin, BJ’s hands still on him and in him.
“That—that was cheating,” he accused, once he got his breath back.
“Never said we couldn’t use hands,” BJ said, smiling broadly. “Now you have to do whatever we say.”
“Since when was that the deal?” Hawkeye said.
“Since now,” BJ said, running his hands up Hawkeye’s thighs, his eyes dark. Hawkeye knew what BJ wanted; he wanted it too. Peggy, still straddling Hawkeye’s chest, was eyeing them both in a way that said she was on the exact same page. Hawkeye hated to burst their bubble.
“One problem. I didn’t come here intending to get fucked six ways to Sunday,” he said. “I didn’t bring anything.”
“Anything what?” BJ said, his brow creasing.
“Any lubricant, Beej,” Hawkeye said. “Spit’s not going to cut it for me.”
“Oh,” Peggy said, sounding disappointed, like she’d actually been looking forward to seeing her husband have sex with another man. Then she gasped. “Oh!”
Without another word, she clambered off of Hawkeye. Hawkeye met BJ’s eyes. BJ shrugged. “And here I was going to go back in for seconds,” Hawkeye said.
Peggy hurried back, a small jar in her hands. “Will this work? Vaseline. I use it for chapped skin.”
“Peggy, you’re a marvel,” Hawkeye said, pulling her in for a kiss. “That’s perfect—a hell of a lot better than some of the stuff I’ve used, anyways. So, how are we doing this?”
“How about this,” Peggy said. She took a moment to strip off her clothes, Hawkeye assisting with the hooks of her bra before she had to twist around to get it herself, and then settled back against the pillows and opened her arms. “You come here, Hawkeye. BJ, did you bring—”
“Ah, right,” BJ said, getting up with a slight wince. He bent to rub his knees, for a moment, before going to dig through his bag.
Peggy captured Hawkeye’s attention, though, taking his hand to draw him forwards. Hawkeye went to her, situating himself between her legs and leaning in to kiss her, first her mouth and then down her neck to her breasts.
The bed dipped as BJ clambered up behind him. When he pressed up against Hawkeye, Hawkeye could feel the hot length of his cock against him—he’d taken off his clothes. “Now I feel overdressed,” Hawkeye said, still in his shirt.
“We can take care of that,” Peggy said, undoing his buttons and then sliding his shirt off his shoulders. BJ’s shirt, really, because Hawkeye was wearing his borrowed clothes—the thought left him warm even as the chill of the room hit him.
BJ’s hand ran down his thigh, then up again, over the curve of his ass, pausing at the base of his spine. “Any tips?”
“Yours, hopefully,” Hawkeye said, earning a chuckle. “Yeah. Go slow, and there’s no such thing as too much lube.”
“Got it. Peg?”
“Here you are, darling,” Peggy said, offering up the vaseline. BJ coated his fingers, and then he was slowly pushing one inside Hawkeye. It didn’t hurt much, not between the earlier preparation and the generous amount of vaseline BJ had used.
“More,” he urged, and that stung a little, but not enough to outweigh the pleasure. Two fingers, but judging by what he’d felt of BJ’s cock, that wouldn’t be enough.
“More,” he said, again. BJ removed his fingers entirely, but then pressed back in with three, newly coated with vaseline. That helped, but the stretch still burned enough to draw a groan from his throat. That faded, though, as BJ’s fingers thrust out of him, gently enough that it almost made him want to cry.
Then BJ brushed against his prostate, and Hawkeye’s hips jumped. “Ah! Okay, okay, that’s enough. I’m good.”
“You’re sure?” BJ checked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Hawkeye said. “Which of us has done this again?”
“Just checking,” BJ said, withdrawing his hand.
Hawkeye wasn’t entirely sure what the plan was for Peggy before BJ asked, “Can you get hard again this soon?”
“I’m not that old,” Hawkeye said, although he was well aware of the gray that streaked his hair. “Yeah, I can go again, just give me a hand.”
BJ reached around for his cock. His touch was gentle, but Hawkeye shuddered, still sensitive. “Too much?”
“In a good way,” Hawkeye said, caught between the urge to thrust into his grip and pull away. “Keep going.”
He hardened, slowly, under their hands. BJ pulled away as soon as he was hard, but reached back around only a moment later with a condom. He rested his chin on Hawkeye’s shoulder as he pinched the tip and rolled it down Hawkeye’s cock, but didn’t pull away even once he was done, instead mouthing at the shell of Hawkeye’s ear in a way that sent pleasant shivers down his spine.
“Ah, okay, okay,” he said. “I’m ready. Peg?”
“And waiting,” Peggy said. He reached between them to guide himself into her, his head falling against her shoulder with a groan as he slipped inside. He had to take a moment just to breathe.
BJ’s hand ran down his spine. “Hawk?”
“I’m good. You can go,” Hawkeye said. “Lots of vaseline, don’t forget.”
“One step ahead of you,” BJ said, and then the tip of his cock was pressing against Hawkeye’s hole. Hawkeye breathed out and tried to relax, although he couldn’t stop himself from clinging tight to Peggy as BJ pushed inside of him. It was too much, with BJ inside him and Peggy around him, and BJ was kissing his neck and murmuring into his ear how perfect he was, how good he felt, how wonderful, how amazing—
“Hawkeye, darling?” Peggy murmured, brushing her thumb against the corner of his eye. It came away damp, and he realized that his eyes were welling up.
“Fine,” he managed to say. He didn’t want to worry her; it wasn’t her fault, or BJ’s, that this was too good to be true. “Perfect. Just—just give me a minute. It’s, ah, a lot.”
Peggy smiled softly. “He is, isn’t he.”
“Sorry,” BJ murmured into Hawkeye’s neck. “If it’s too much, I can—”
“Don’t you dare. I’m no quitter,” Hawkeye said, rocking his hips back towards BJ. BJ, as if in answer, thrust into him, pushing Hawkeye deeper into Peggy. The three of them moaned nearly in unison. Slowly, they fell into a rhythm, the three of them moving almost as one, Hawkeye inside Peggy and BJ inside him, the two of them enveloping him completely.
Peggy, already on edge, was the first to come, clenching around him as she gasped and held him tight. He slowed, waiting to see if she would want him out, but she urged him on with her heels. BJ, clearly getting the message, thrust into Hawkeye hard enough that he nearly fell on top of her. As it was, he buried his face in her shoulder, holding her as he thrust into her and BJ thrust into him.
Her hands brushed his hair back, away from his face.
“Let me see your face,” she murmured.
He raised his head to kiss her, her lips parting for his tongue, before a shift in angle had him breaking the kiss with a moan. “Fuck, Beej, there—”
“That’s it, huh,” BJ said. He hit the same spot again on the next thrust, and again, the pleasure building with each stroke against Hawkeye’s prostate. Peggy was whispering in his ear, faint words of praise that faded into the blood rushing in his ears. He didn’t want to come—he didn’t want it to end—
But Peggy clenched around him, and he came with a shout, his elbows nearly buckling. BJ thrust into him once, twice, three more times, and then he was coming, too, burying himself inside Hawkeye with a groan.
They stayed like that, for a moment, chests heaving and hearts pounding.
Hawkeye didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay like this, forever, caught by the two of them. He wanted to fall asleep in their arms and wake up the same way. He wanted to spend breakfast doing the crossword with them and, after a long day, come home to eat dinner with them. He wanted to pass the evenings telling jokes and sharing tales of their respective days. He wanted to meet their little girl, even, despite the thought filling him with a faint sense of anxiety.
He only got to enjoy having Peggy in his arms for a minute, though. “Bathroom,” she said, apologetically, before pressing a kiss to his cheek and wriggling out of his arms.
Hawkeye sighed, resigned. “I need to shower.”
It made sense, really, for him to go back to his room. It wasn’t far, and the hotel room would be a little cramped for all three of them to clean up at once.
Before he could get up, though, BJ put a hand on his arm. “Stay?”
Hawkeye knew he shouldn’t. It would just make it hurt more, really, to let this linger on. Smarter to cut things short and make his escape to save himself a bit of pain. But BJ looked so hopeful that Hawkeye couldn’t bring himself to refuse.
“Aw, shucks,” Hawkeye said. “I just can’t say no to that face.”
He stayed. Peggy beamed to see him there when she got out of the bathroom, even though he immediately got up to get cleaned up himself. She and BJ were cuddled up when he came out, but she opened up her arms for him when BJ got up to take his turn in the bathroom.
Hawkeye lay down with her, and she settled against his chest with a happy hum. “You’re less hairy than Bj.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asked.
“Right now? A good thing,” she said. “It’s very handsome, but it scratches.”
Hawkeye laughed. “Right on both counts.”
He didn’t mind it, though, when BJ got into bed behind him and pulled Hawkeye into his arms, even if his chest hair did scratch against Hawkeye’s back. At least it meant that they were with him.
Morning came too soon, and with it, the end of his time in San Francisco.
They stretched it out as long as they could. They ordered room service and ate breakfast together. Afterwards, they all went down to the remainder of the talks together, although he was sure Peggy had to be bored stiff by the topics. BJ sure wasn’t, though, and they got so caught up in their discussions that they almost missed several talks. The talks ended in the afternoon, though, and then there was nothing for him to do but pack and head off on his way.
Even then, though, when he was prepared to see them off in his hotel room with one last kiss, BJ said, “Let us give you a ride to the airport.”
“Beats a taxi,” Hawkeye said.
They all piled into the car together; BJ drove them to the airport, and Hawkeye would swear that he was going slowly on purpose. Not that he could blame him. When they finally parked, he had to force himself to get out of the car.
BJ got his bag from the trunk while Peggy pulled him into a hug and kissed him sweetly. “That’s from me,” she said, and then kissed him again. “And that’s from BJ.”
BJ, of course, couldn’t do the same, but he took Hawkeye’s hand in something that might have passed for a handshake if it didn’t linger far too long. “We’ll write,” he said, his thumb rubbing over the back of Hawkeye’s hand.
“I’ll be watching for the mailman,” Hawkeye said. “Goodbye, Peg. Goodbye, Beej.”
He wanted to stay; he needed to leave. Things like this never lasted, especially not for somebody like him. He was too much, too fast—fun for a weekend, not for a lifetime. The last thing he needed was to go off the rails again and take their life with him. They had a good thing built, a loving marriage and a cute little girl and a nice house in the suburbs and decent jobs. Hawkeye had his dad, his childhood home, and a brain that had cracked back in Korea. They were better off, really, with him far away from him.
But if they wrote—that would be good, at least. Letters, he could have.
He wrote letters in his mind, imagining what they might say and how he might respond, all the way back to Crabapple Cove. Even in the taxi, he turned over how he might recount his trip home if they asked him if he’d made it back safely, or how he might ask about how Erin was doing if they mentioned how happy she was to have them back home. His brain only fell quiet as he got out of the taxi and jogged up to the back door.
“Dad, I’m home,” he called, as he kicked off his shoes in the mudroom. The house was quiet; Dad was at the clinic or away on a house call, most likely. Hawkeye set down his bag at the door so it would be there for him when he needed it, only to pause.
Was it just him, or was it bulkier than normal?
Hawkeye unzipped the bag. STANFORD greeted him in bold red letters.
BJ’s sweater.
Slowly, Hawkeye lifted it out with both hands. BJ must have slipped it into the bag when they were dropping him off at the airport. It was a sweet gesture, but it made his heart ache like nothing else. He let out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the fabric. Hawkeye thought, maybe, that it still smelled a little like him.
Despite his fantasies, he didn’t hold out much hope that they would write. No one had written to him after Korea, and that had been far more of a bonding experience than a mere weekend in San Francisco. If the friends he had spent three years with were happier to forget him, then surely the same would be said of a couple he had known for all of three days. It would be silly to expect anything else.
One week passed with no letter, and then two, and then three, and he knew that he had been right. Slowly, he stopped checking the mail so frequently, hoping for a letter that he knew wasn’t coming.
Dad noticed, Hawkeye could tell from the way the man’s eyes lingered on him, but he didn’t say anything. Hawkeye tried not to give him any more cause to worry. He busied himself with the clinic, going so far as to reorganize the entire supply room. He called up his old friends and cajoled them into hanging out with him (except for Toby, the fink, who still wouldn’t shut up about the thirty-seven dollars Hawkeye supposedly owed him). He tried his hand at home repair, at least until Dad told him to stop climbing all over the roof before he broke his neck. He tried going to Portland, even, to try to meet a girl, only to end up watching Oklahoma! alone, feeling mad at the world and BJ and Peggy and himself.
At the world, for starting the damn war and getting him sent to Korea in the first place and throwing his whole life off track. At BJ and Peggy for walking his life and then walking right out again without so much as a letter to say “so long, nice knowing you.” At himself, for being stupid enough to expect them to write in the first place.
He’d probably spend the rest of his life in Crabapple Cove, slowly decomposing on Dad’s couch. It wasn’t so bad, Hawkeye told himself, as he stared up at the ceiling. It wasn’t Korea, by any means. It was just that he was tired—tired of the way people looked at him, tired of the expectations they still had, tired of the way they looked at him when he couldn’t meet those expectations. BJ and Peg had been different. They’d understood him, somehow, in a way that the people who had known him since childhood didn’t.
And there he was again, thinking about BJ and Peggy.
He didn’t pay much attention to the doorbell, at first, except to wonder who the hell was ringing it. Everybody in Crabapple Cove knew that Dad was at the clinic at this time of day, and anyways, no one used the front door; they always went around to the back. Solicitors, he decided, resolving to ignore them.
But then a familiar voice said, “Maybe he’s out?”
“His dad said he was home,” said another familiar voice.
“Well, it’s a nice day. Maybe he went for a walk. Should we look around?”
“A nice day? Peg, it’s snowing—”
“I think it’s lovely.”
Hawkeye scrambled to his feet, cursing as he smacked his knee against the coffee table. He nearly ran right into the hall table in his haste to turn the corner, and knocked the phone right off its receiver. He tripped over the stupid rug, which of course was bunched up like it always was when he was in a hurry, and slammed right into the front door. Hearing nothing but silence, he wrenched it open so quickly he nearly hit himself in the face.
BJ Hunnicutt stood on his doorstep, a little girl who had to be Erin in his arms, Peggy at his side, bright grins on all three faces.
“Hey there, Hawk,” BJ said. “You having a wrestling match in there or something?”
“A wrestling—I’ll show you a wrestling match, you jerk!” Hawkeye said. “What are you doing here?”
BJ just smiled. “Well, you said we could visit, Hawk. Sorry it took us so long—I had to arrange for time off work.”
“We wanted to surprise you,” Peggy said.
BJ bounced the little girl in his arms. “Mind if we come in? Somebody here’s been waiting all month to meet you.”
And what could Hawkeye do, but let them in?