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Sit down, your father and I will tell you what we did to have you.
It echoed in Trapper's mind, over and over again. A joke, just like the ones Hawkeye always made, but for some reason, Trapper couldn't stop thinking about this one. Maybe he was sick in the head. Maybe he was just missing home a little too much. That had to be it. He was missing home, his wife and the girls, and Hawkeye was the next closest thing. It didn't mean Trapper was queer, and it didn't mean that Hawkeye was, either.
Except Trapper knew that Hawkeye wasn't always joking when he implied he got it on with other guys. Dangerous stuff to joke about when you were actually at risk of getting caught.
"Trap, pour me another one?"
Hawkeye was lounging in his cot, always in that red robe, holding out his martini glass. Trapper nodded and brought the pitcher over. Could they even really call them martinis? A glass of bathtub gin with an olive hardly counted as a cocktail.
"For you, my sweet."
"Thank you, daddy dear."
Trapper flushed at the nickname. Hawkeye always said stupid stuff that made his face heat up. It didn't matter if Trapper started the joke first, Hawkeye never lost the upper hand.
"Keep that up and we'll have another Radar."
"The doctor said that I still haven't recovered from the last Radar. We need to wait at least another month."
Trapper chuckled and lounged across his own cot, pulling one of the nudie magazines he'd nicked from Hawkeye's bunk. Hawkeye grinned when he saw the cover.
"Great issue. I'm writing a letter to the girl on page 20 to ask for her hand in marriage."
Trapper flipped to the page and let out a whistle. "She's a knock-out, for sure."
"What I wouldn't do to give her a medical exam," Hawkeye sighed. "All that time in the sun, she might have a melanoma."
Trapper flipped to the next page and stopped. The guy was tall and skinny with dark hair. If he squinted, really squinted, he could pass for a cheap imitation of Hawkeye Pierce. And wasn't that something?
He kept flipping, pretending that he didn't see that. He already got to see the real Hawkeye naked, not that he was looking. He didn't need to see an imposter in print when he had the genuine article a mere few feet away.
"Hawk, look at those tan lines."
Hawkeye leered as Trapper turned the magazine towards him. "Someone oughta paint her on an airplane. Maybe it'd end the war."
Trapper nodded in agreement and took another peek. She really was beautiful. "Whoever she goes home to at night is one lucky fella."
"Maybe she's one of those sapphists. That would be a picture."
Trapper wasn't sure he'd be able to keep the conversation going if he thought about that possibility. He'd have to kick Hawkeye out and attend to himself, or find a nurse willing to meet him in the supply tent.
"You ever see that? Two girls together?" Hawkeye continued like Trapper wasn't growing stiff inside his army issued trousers. "Tell you what, Trap, it's nothing to scoff at. Nobody knows how to pleasure a woman like another woman."
Trapper had to make a dig, he just had to. "Hawkeye Pierce admitting defeat? I thought you were supposed to be the ultimate lover."
Hawkeye smirked and shifted, looking coy. "I'm happy to admit defeat in this particular instance."
Trapper opened his mouth, then promptly shut it again as Frank stormed into the Swamp. He took one look at the magazine in Trapper's hands and scoffed. "Degenerates."
"Trapper, did you hear something? I thought I heard something."
Trapper shook his head. "No, I didn't hear anything."
Frank shot them a dirty look and crashed onto his cot. Hawkeye smirked at Trapper, who smiled back freely. Frank wouldn't catch on to whatever just happened, and Trapper wasn't going to bring it up. They always talked about women with each other, it shouldn't be any different just because Trapper couldn't keep his mind from straying.
"Frank, what are you even doing here?" Hawkeye pressed. "Don't you have a date with Hot Lips?"
"Major Houlihan and I do not have a date! Need I remind you that I'm a married man? Some of us take our vows seriously, you know."
Hawkeye squawked a laugh, and Trapper couldn't help but feel at home. Like he wasn't a few mere miles from a war zone, patching up kids just to send them back to the butcher shop. That laugh, loud as hell and, quite frankly, obnoxious as all get out, made him feel alive.
Maybe that was just what it was like to have a best friend. Nothing queer at all, when he thought about it.
"Frank, you respect your marriage vows about as much as I do."
"That's not true!" Frank protested, crossing his arms in a huff. "I respect the institution of marriage almost as much as I respect the army itself. You wouldn't know the meaning of marriage if it punched you in the mouth."
"I oughta punch you in the mouth," Trapped warned. Louise understood the situation and had her own fun — he wasn't good at being tied down, and he wasn't going to force her to be lonely while he chased skirt all over Korea. He knew that the Burns family didn't have anything close to a similar arrangement, despite Frank's regular appearance in Margaret Houlihan's army issued bed.
"You can't punch a superior officer!"
"Then can it, before I get court martialed."
A tense silence fell over the Swamp. Trapper looked over to Hawkeye, who was staring back with a raised eyebrow. Usually Frank didn't rile Trapper up like that so quickly, especially when he was in a good mood. And Hawkeye knew that Trapper was in a good mood, because he'd been discussing the contents of Sunshine & Health only a few minutes before.
Attention, all personnel: incoming wounded.
Trapper watched as Hawkeye's face fell momentarily, before he steeled himself and met Trapper's eyes once more. Everything that happened in the OR weighed on them all, but Hawkeye seemed to get the worst cases. Trapper hoped the choppers would go easy on them today.
They didn't.
17 hours straight of meatball surgery, chest wound after bowel resection after amputation, repeat. Hawkeye looked ready to fall to the ground, and Trapper knew him well enough to know that he was beating himself up. For what, he had no idea.
They hit the showers, and Trapper could sense that Hawkeye wasn't feeling very talkative. He made small quips, enough to hide whatever was going on with him from someone who couldn't tell the difference, but Trapper knew. He could read Hawkeye Pierce like an open dirty magazine.
"I think we're due for a trip to Tokyo, don't you?" He asked, just to field Hawkeye's mood. If he made a joke, he was okay but tired. If he just nodded and smiled like it all sounded nifty, something was wrong.
"Hawk, what's goin' on?" Trapper asked after the telltale nod.
"Nothing. I'm perfectly alright."
"Nah, something's up with you. Come on, spill. What went wrong?"
Hawkeye swallowed and rinsed himself before responding. "Kid had shrapnel lodged so far in his abdomen I almost lost him fishing it out."
Trapper couldn't remember. He'd probably been dealing with his own near death patient, too distracted to hear Hawkeye's orders to the assisting nurse. "You deal with that every other day. Why's it bother you today?"
"If he'd been even five minutes late to my table, he'd be going home in a body bag."
"Hawk."
"And I mean, what's it all for? I save him so he doesn't die on my table, just so he can get shipped back to the front and die on someone else's table? I'm tired of it, Trap. Aren't you tired of it?"
He sounded like a shell of himself, his usual indignance towards the situation taking a backseat to total exhaustion. He needed a trip to Tokyo.
"I'm tired of it, too, Hawk," Trapper rasped. "Bet your ass, I'm tired of it, too."
Henry couldn't grant them passes. There was a push, expected incoming casualties. 36 hours straight of meatball surgery, three fatalities, one on Trapper's table. He couldn't let himself feel it, there were still kids to patch up.
By the time they hit the showers, then the mess tent, then finally the Swamp, they were both dead on their feet. Trapper hit the still, pouring them both a glass of two days ago's finest.
Trapper still couldn't feel it. He knew Hawkeye felt every loss, even when he put on a brave face. He felt like that took way more guts than pretending it didn't happen.
"Talk to me, Trap." Hawkeye was staring at him over the rim of his glass. He knew. Trapper could tell he knew.
"Kid was 16. Had to be. No way he was old enough to get drafted."
Hawkeye nodded, and that was that. There was nothing else to be said. The pointlessness of it all permeated the tent.
They had a few slow days, slow enough for Trapper to close the tent flaps and dig through Hawkeye's latest magazine arrival. He couldn't decide between last month's issue of The Joy of Nudity or a tried and true classic. Hawkeye entered the Swamp while Trapper dug through his bunk.
"Whaddaya think, Hawk? Joy or Sunshine?"
"I'll take Joy, you take Sunshine, then we'll swap when we're done."
Trapper tried his best not to look so excited by the implications. He reminded himself that this wasn't a queer thing, it was a best friend thing. Hawkeye made the suggestion because he understood their bond as men, as proud members of the pervert persuasion.
Trapper allowed himself to think that maybe if you looked at it wrong, it was a little queer.
"Sounds like a plan."
They both quietly flipped through the magazines, letting out occasional hums of appreciation. It was almost ten minutes before Hawkeye finally spoke. "Trap, you're gonna love this. Want a sneak peek?"
"That good?"
Hawkeye didn't wait before he turned the open pages towards Trapper. Trapper's breath caught as he took in the image of a girl and two guys laying in the grass, close but not touching. It wasn't something that would typically get Trapper's motor running, but the shot felt so deeply intimate that it could almost be mistaken for something more intense than what made it to print.
"Oh, wow. Think they…?"
"They what, Trap?" Hawkeye knew. Trapper knew that Hawkeye knew what he was asking, he just wanted him to say it out loud. Wanted to coax a fantasy out of him like they did sometimes when it was dark enough and quiet enough and Frank Burns-less enough to get each other off without really doing it. The more Trapper thought about it, the harder it was to deny that there was something going on between them. Hawkeye was queer in some way, and Trapper had never tried it, so he couldn't really say for sure. His last best friend had been so different from Hawkeye that the idea never crossed his mind.
"You think they share her? At the same time, I mean."
Hawkeye met his gaze. "I think they do that and then some."
"You know, all those times we joke about it, I don't think we've ever actually shared a nurse together."
Trapper felt dangerous. A thrill shot through him as he watched Hawkeye's lips fall open, just enough to let air escape.
"I don't wanna share you, Trap." Hawkeye sounded like he'd swallowed glass. Trapper didn't want to share him either, but it was the only way anything could happen between them without the consequences outweighing the benefits.
"I'd eat her out while you feel her up, if we were those guys." Trapper had to build a fantasy to have Hawkeye. It was the only way they could do it if they weren't going to share for real.
"Yeah?" Hawkeye sounded amazed, like sex was an entirely new concept.
"Yeah. I'd…I'd get her all worked up, get her on your lap. You'd squeeze her tits and…with your other hand you'd rub her off while I tongue fuck her."
"Jesus, Trap." Hawkeye covered his eyes, breathing like it hurt. "Then what?"
"Then I'd—"
The door slammed open, and Radar stumbled in. "Sirs? Sorry to bother you, but Colonel Blake wants to see you in his office."
Hawkeye groaned theatrically to hide his genuine frustration at being interrupted. "What does he want us for? We were in the middle of a very important discussion, Radar. Your father and I are making another you!"
Radar winced awkwardly and tried to laugh. "Uh, well, he didn't say for sure, but I heard something through the wall about passes to Tokyo."
Trapper couldn't believe it. It was too good to be true. The rug always got pulled out from them somehow. The very second those passes got into their hands, an announcement would go over the PA system. They weren't getting that R&R, no matter how much they both needed and deserved it.
"Let's go, Trap. See if we can't have a honeymoon."
He was playing it up for Radar, disguising genuine longing for crude innuendo. Trapper knew what he meant. He knew what Hawkeye wanted. And for the first time in their friendship, after everything they got up to, Trapper wasn't ashamed to admit that maybe he was a little queer for Hawkeye. He wanted him, didn't want to share him, didn't want sharing him to be the only option. If they could get those passes, Trapper would do anything Hawkeye asked. He'd kiss his feet. He'd bark like a dog. Anything Hawkeye wanted, Trapper would give him in Tokyo.
It wasn't a cruel trick of the universe, dangling R&R in front of them like a carrot. No loudspeakers went off. No helicopters came flying in. No sense of urgency among the personnel signaling casualties. Henry Blake gave them two passes to Tokyo, four days under the condition they come back early if they were needed. Trapper felt like he could cry. Hawkeye looked like he was going to.
The room they booked had two beds, but Trapper was sure they'd be sharing one. Maybe not to begin with, but by the end of their trip, they'd be comfortably pressed together. The pure heavenly sight of a Japanese hotel room made them both weak in the knees.
"Hawk."
Hawkeye looked at him sharply, no trace of fear or apprehension. No, Trapper could feel the energy radiating from him. Hawkeye was anticipating something.
"Yeah, Trap?"
"Whaddaya say we take turns in a real shower?"
Hawkeye licked his bottom lip and nodded. Trapper knew that Hawkeye knew that Trapper wanted to make something happen. Neither of them were sure what that meant.
"You first," Hawkeye offered. "You reek."
There was no humor. Trapper knew what he was really saying. You had a kid die on your table most recently, you should get dibs on the hot water.
"Thanks, Hawk."
And Trapper couldn't think about anything other than the soft parting of Hawkeye's lips, the little gasp he let out as Trapper described his fantasy. He wondered what Hawkeye might look like with a girl writhing in his lap, at both of their mercies. He realized that Hawkeye might make him wonder about that, but might not make him wonder about other visions he's had.
Trapper resisted the urge to stroke himself, instead letting his cock swell to its content as he pictured Hawkeye underneath him, barking orders to keep going.
He knew that Hawkeye could see how hard he was through the towel, could see the bit of precum leaking from his tip as he changed into his boxers, but he didn't care. He wanted him to notice, wanted him to make Trapper his.
He could hear Hawkeye in the shower, listened carefully for any signs of self pleasure, but it seemed like Hawkeye was resisting.
"Hawk?" He called through the door, just to see.
"Yeah?" Hawkeye's ragged voice called back.
"Have fun in there."
Trapper watched as Hawkeye dug through his bag and pulled out the magazine that Radar had interrupted, wet hair still dripping down his face. Hawkeye looked at him, looked through him, those bright blue eyes rifling through the muck and seeing the real John McIntyre, the guy he kept hidden from the people who didn't matter.
"Louise sees people on the side, too." Trapper knew why those were the first words out of his mouth, but he wished he could have given a smoother delivery.
Hawkeye blinked and looked away. "You say that to all the girls?"
"God strike me dead." Trapper wasn't smiling. He looked serious, maybe the most serious Hawkeye had ever seen him outside of surgery.
"So what are you saying?"
Trapper knew he was being purposely dense. He wanted Trapper to say it word for word, to confess to the attraction that had been brewing since the first time they operated on a patient together. He wanted Trapper to admit to both of them that this was a queer thing.
"I'm saying we don't need the magazine to get past your marriage hang up."
Hawkeye flung himself at Trapper, pinning him to the bed. "You for real?"
"Hawk," Trapper whispered. He couldn't let himself speak louder, for fear of shouting it from the rooftops. His heart was so full it could burst. "Baby, kiss me. Please, kiss me."
Trapper felt like a hopeless romantic the second Hawkeye leaned in and joined their lips together. It wasn't hot and heavy like Trapper expected. No, it was sweet, almost chaste if it weren't for the little bit of tongue. Hawkeye was kissing him like a lover, holding him down like he was worth keeping.
He couldn't move his hands, but he was content to feel the pressure against his wrists. Trapper had never minded some of the kinkier stuff. He wondered if Hawkeye would take him, instead of the other way around. He wasn't opposed to the idea.
He felt Hawkeye's hard on against his thigh, and shifted so that Hawkeye let out a soft moan.
Trapper smiled into the kiss. "Yeah? Wanna rub against my leg?"
"Trap," Hawkeye murmured. "I want—"
"We have four days. Four whole days, Hawk. We have all the time in the world."
Hawkeye peppered him with soft kisses, like he did the nurses, moving downwards towards Trapper's neck. "I don't wanna leave this hotel room. I don't wanna leave this bed, Trap. If you're serious about this, I—"
"Come on, sweetheart. Would I lie to you?"
"Love it when you call me that," Hawkeye sighed.
Trapper didn't realize how naturally it slipped out, but he did call Hawkeye that more than a few times. Always as jokes with a hint of truth. "I'll call you that and more. Come on, make yourself feel good."
Hawkeye rolled against Trapper's thigh, seeking friction and warmth and soft fat over hard muscle. "I didn't, in the shower, I didn't, I just let myself think. You told me to have fun but I wanted to wait in case—"
"In case I told you to forget the magazine."
Hawkeye nodded and let his face fall into Trapper's clavicle. "Wanted this for so long."
"You have it. Hawk, you have it. Whatever you want, I'm yours." Trapper wasn't used to feeling so raw, so open. He never used this kind of sweet talk for his usual flings, didn't write checks he couldn't cash. But Hawkeye wasn't casual, and he wasn't a fling. Hawkeye was his best friend.
"Keep talking, Trap. I'm almost there."
Oh, Christ, Trapper thought to himself. Hawkeye was humping his leg, was going to finish in his underwear like a kid at prom. "That's it, baby. Just like that, come on. Wanna…wanna suck your cock, let you mark me up. Get all over me and make me yours."
Hawkeye whined into his chest, his pace stuttering. They could have been doing this for months, and Trapper was disappointed in himself for not recognizing it sooner.
"Hawk, sweetheart, come on. You're so pent up, just let go. Think about my face all covered in you, in your…I'd wear it like makeup, Hawk."
Trapper wasn't sure if it was the image of him sucking cock or wearing spunk like lipstick that did it, but Hawkeye froze against him and let out a low moan, one Trapper had heard dozens of times.
"That's it. Yeah, that's it." He kissed the top of Hawkeye's head, closing his eyes and letting the damp front of Hawkeye's boxers cool against his skin. "You're perfect, Hawk. So perfect for me."
"Didn't know you'd be interested in all that. Thought you'd…thought it'd be too much."
"Nothin's too much with you, Hawk." Trapper would do anything if he was doing it with Hawkeye.
"Want me to get you?"
"Nah, I wanna…this is gonna sound crazy, but I know you like crazy."
Hawkeye lifted his head and cupped Trapper's cheek. "What?"
"Wanna save it up for you."
"What?" Hawkeye was a little more breathless. "Save what?"
Hawkeye made jokes. He made lots of jokes that Trapper went along with, but he couldn't get them out of his head. He couldn't help but think about Hawkeye, pinned underneath him, taking him, taking his load, crying out as Trapper pumped him full. He'd give it to him so good, Hawkeye would never even think about going with another guy. He wouldn't need to.
"Wanna make a baby with you, Hawk."
"Trapper—"
"I can't stop thinking about it. Haven't been able to since you said what you said to Radar."
"Before we left?"
"Before that. Weeks, Hawk." Trapper's voice cracked, and he couldn't tell if it was from lust or heartache. "First time you said it. You said 'your father and I,' and my mind just went blank."
Hawkeye let his guard down. Trapper could tell by the way he relaxed, the subtle bit of tension that nobody else would have noticed leaving his body as soon as Trapper promised that he meant it.
"I didn't bring any, I'd have to go out and get—"
"Isn't the point that we don't need condoms?'
"Lubricant, Trap. Jesus, it's like you never bagged a guy before."
Trapper, contrary to Hawkeye's belief, actually did know that they needed something to ease the way, which is why he stole a tube of surgical aid from the supply tent before they left. He'd never been with another man, but he was no stranger to prostate exams. On top of that, he'd been with a rather interesting nurse who taught him a couple of things not long after his arrival. It was a shame when she transferred out.
"In my bag. You don't hafta go anywhere." He held Hawkeye closer to prove his point. "Let's just lay here for a little while."
"Awfully romantic, Trap. Whisking me away to Tokyo and packing all the goods."
"What can I say? I'm a lover, not a fighter." Trapper smiled, then considered Hawkeye's state. "Want me to clean you up?"
"Wanna just join me for another shower?" Hawkeye's hair was still damp from the first one, but they had all the hot water they could possibly want at their disposal.
It wouldn't be any different than showering together at the camp, except they wouldn't have to worry about someone walking in if they got a little handsy. Trapper wanted it more than anything.
"Get the water started, I'll join you in a minute."
Hawkeye left him with a kiss and a smile, humming something that sounded suspiciously like Ella Fitzgerald. Trapper ran his hands through his hair, grinning to himself. He had four whole days in Tokyo with Hawkeye Pierce, and he was going to make every second count.
They fell back into bed like they'd never left it, not even bothering with the pretense of clothing.
"You're beautiful, Hawk."
"Well, I'm no Hot Lips, but—"
"I mean it. No kidding, I mean it." Trapper ran his fingers along Hawkeye's stomach, getting to know the parts of him he'd been wanting to touch. "Four whole days."
"Yeah." Hawkeye's voice was borderline melancholic. "What happens when we get back, though?"
"We'll make it work."
Hawkeye hummed and closed his eyes, and Trapper let himself finally believe the sight in front of him. He'd lied to himself all those times he swore he wasn't looking, all those times he'd pretended not to notice how goddamn pretty Hawkeye was.
"You're staring at me, I can feel it."
"Just lookin' is all."
"Well, stop it, you'll give me a complex. I'm about to start worrying if my waist is small enough."
Trapper didn't care about stuff like that. He never had. He shifted around, lowering himself and poising to kiss Hawkeye's stomach. "You gotta eat right if you wanna carry to term."
Hawkeye carded his fingers through Trapper's hair, not quite smiling. He looked contemplative. "You're really into that, aren't you?"
"I'm into you, Hawk." Trapper kissed a spot right below Hawkeye's ribs. "And yeah, maybe I've thought about it a time or two. It's fun to make babies, you know."
"Is it? I've never tried."
Trapper met his eyes, crinkled at the corners and barely hiding his amusement, and laughed. Hawkeye swallowed tightly and smiled for real.
"We should make Henry the godfather."
"And Klinger the godmother," Trapper quipped back, still grinning. "It'll be nice to have a little tyke around camp."
"Well, Radar's always said he wanted a brother."
Trapper let his eyelids flutter shut, resting against Hawkeye's stomach. It was nice, doing the usual jokes but not ignoring the truth behind them. Hawkeye's fingers in his curls made Trapper feel wanted — not just an object of desire but one of affection, something he hadn't felt since being shipped over.
He, embarrassingly, felt hot tears attempt to make an appearance, and he refused to open his eyes to let them escape. He didn't want Hawkeye to worry that he was regretting his first foray into homosexual territory. Trapper wanted this, whatever this actually was.
"You're good to me, Hawk."
"You're good to me, Trapper. Not many people wanna play along with a guy who wants to get pregnant."
"It's not even about that. Not really. I'm into it, but…I don't think I'd be as into it if you were anyone but you."
That was about as close of a confession as he could make. Hawk knew what he meant.
Hawkeye wasn't ready to go again, and Trapper wasn't sure he was ready to go at all, but they laid like that until Trapper fell asleep, clutching him like a child.
"You look good."
Hawkeye wasn't wearing anything special, just his blue aloha shirt and a pair of fatigues, but Trapper was allowed to say stuff like that and mean it now, so he said it and meant it. The smile on Hawkeye's face was worth sounding a little foolish.
For all their talk of not leaving the hotel room, they both needed to eat. If they left, they could make believe that they were out on a date, flirt with each other in the ways they were able to get away with, and come back to a place that was their own, even just for a couple of days. Trapper could seduce Hawkeye, make him feel special because he was special. It would mean something. He needed it to mean something more than anything.
"You're pretty handsome yourself, Trap. The ladies are gonna have a field day."
"Too bad for them, I'm taken." It wasn't a joke anymore. He wasn't sure if it ever was, when it came to Hawkeye.
"Who's the lucky girl?"
"Oh, a little doctor I met in Korea."
Hawkeye's smile said it wasn't too much, it wasn't too weird, Trapper wasn't staking claim to something that wasn't really his. Hawkeye wanted this, wanted Trapper for God knows what reason, and wasn't just going along for the ride.
They drank rice liquor and ate raw fish, and Trapper didn't even mind that he didn't really like fish in the first place, because Hawkeye picked the spot and Trapper wanted him to be happy. He deserved to be happy.
Hawkeye was looking at him funny. "You okay, Trap?" His voice was soft and concerned, and Trapper wasn't sure why.
"Yeah, I'm good."
"You got a little something in your eye, then."
Oh. Trapper was being a baby, that explained it. He was acting like a heartbroken fool when really, he was the happiest he'd ever been next to the birth of his daughters. He was in Tokyo with his best friend — they were eating dinner together, and they were going to go back to the hotel and fall into bed together. Maybe it was that kid finally catching up to him.
"Sorry." Trapper wiped his eyes as discreetly as possible and looked around. "Think anyone saw?"
"I don't think anyone else gives a damn. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's nice we can have this."
Hawkeye looked at him like he knew that wasn't all there was, because of course he knew, but he dropped it. This was a nice evening, almost perfect, and Trapper wasn't going to ruin it by letting work get to him. He fucking hated this job.
"It is nice." Hawkeye smiled and grabbed another piece of sashimi. "Anyone ever tell you you're good company?"
"I've heard it once or twice. Anyone ever tell you—" Trapper cut himself off, suddenly embarrassed. They were in public, even though nobody was paying attention to them, and he was about to gush over Hawkeye Pierce like a brand new nurse.
"Come on, I'm on the edge of my seat here!"
Trapper swallowed and looked him right in the eyes. "I was just…you're beautiful, Hawk. You're really…I hope it's okay I wanna keep tellin' you that."
Hawkeye stared back, cool blue eyes radiating warmth, and reached a hand across the table without so much as a glance over his shoulder. "You are too, Trap. Wanna get out of here?"
"Let's finish our date first." Trapper squeezed Hawkeye's hand once, then once more for good measure, before pulling back so they didn't raise suspicion, on the off chance that someone actually was paying attention.
The walk back to the hotel wasn't any different than all the other times they'd walked back to a hotel together, except in the ways that it was. They let their hands and shoulders brush together more. They both felt lighter, happier, at home together when their real homes were an ocean and most of a continent away and 14 hours behind.
Trapper didn't waste time pressing Hawkeye against the door the second it latched.
"Want you," Hawkeye gasped as Trapper sucked a mark on his neck. "Trap, please."
"Yeah?"
"Yes, Trapper, yes. God, come on."
Trapper wasn't in a rush, but he had a sense of urgency. Hawkeye's breaths were coming out as shallow little pants, and the bit of stubble on his jawline rubbed against Trapper's cheek in the best possible way. Hawkeye was lanky and unwieldy, but Trapper was sure he could pick him up and carry him.
Hawkeye squawked as his feet lifted off the floor. "What the hell are you doing?! You're gonna hurt yourself!"
"Relax, you're light as a feather." Trapper kissed him once before crossing the room and depositing him onto the bed. Hawkeye looked up at him in a combination of amusement and arousal.
"You wanna pin me down and fuck me now?"
Trapper shook his head and started to undress. Hawkeye took the hint and followed, throwing his clothes haphazardly to the floor.
"Sweetheart, I'm not gonna fuck you."
Hawkeye groaned. "Then what the hell is this foreplay, Trap? Come on, I need it."
Trapper grabbed the surgical jelly from his bag and joined Hawkeye on the mattress, their naked bodies radiating heat. He kissed Hawkeye slowly — they had all the time in the world, at least for right now.
"I'm not gonna fuck you because I'm gonna make love to you, Hawk. If you're okay with that."
"If I'm okay with— you idiot! You big idiot, of course I'm okay with that! What the hell do you mean, if I'm okay with that?"
Trapper shrugged and squeezed lubricant onto his fingers. "Just checking, is all."
"Trapper, if you're not inside me in some capacity in the next minute, I'll scream loud enough to wake half of Tokyo."
As much as Trapper wanted to scissor Hawkeye open with no fanfare, to sink into him and finally make his fantasies reality, he didn't really want that at all. He ignored Hawkeye's threat and kissed him, soft and sweet, pulling back when Hawkeye tried to amp up the intensity.
"Hawk, I meant it when I said I'm not fucking you. You're gonna lay back and let me pamper you like a good husband. This is our honeymoon, remember?"
"You sap. You piece a' shit sap." There was nothing but saccharine affection in his voice. "Fine. But tomorrow—"
"Tomorrow, you're not gonna be able to walk when I'm done with you. And that's a promise, sweetheart."
Hawkeye grinned and closed his eyes, letting himself relax. He wasn't used to this, and Trapper knew it. Hawkeye was a sex object to almost everyone he let in his bed, or rather, to everyone he met up in the supply tent with. And even when he wasn't, the pressure was on him to make it good. Trapper didn't want that, not tonight or any night. He just wanted to take care of Hawkeye the way he deserved.
"You're beautiful, Hawk. So goddamn gorgeous. I don't understand it." Trapper kissed him again. Hawkeye tasted like fish and sake, sweet and tangy and a little briny, and Trapper thought it was better than the actual meal, because this was Hawkeye Pierce sharing a bed with him, letting him kiss the taste out of his mouth, letting him make love to him.
"You know you're the only person who tells me that?" Hawkeye murmured. "I like it. Makes me feel pretty."
"You are pretty," Trapper assured him. "Prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on."
"You mean it?"
Trapper froze at the self consciousness permeating Hawkeye's voice. What a goddamn idiot, thinking Trapper was just saying things. Thinking this was just another seduction, just some sweet talk to get the ball rolling. Hawkeye Pierce was the most beautiful person Trapper had ever seen. Even Louise, stunning as she was, didn't hold a candle to Hawk's scrawny limbs and electric blue eyes.
"Of course I mean it, Hawkeye." Trapper kissed his chest, hot against the flesh that covered the fat that covered the muscle that covered the ribcage that covered the heart. He could feel it keeping Hawkeye alive. "Would we be here if I didn't mean it?"
Hawkeye took a sharp breath. "I guess we wouldn't, huh?"
"I don't go with guys, Hawk. So goddammit, believe me when I say I mean it."
Hawkeye nodded and splayed his palm across Trapper's upper back, holding him in place. "Stay there a minute? It's…I'm not used to this, you know. It being our honeymoon and all, it's new to me."
So he was playing it like that. Hiding his feelings in the role, pretending to be virginal to mask the weight of being loved. Trapper would let him, but only for tonight.
"I'll make it good for you, honey. We'll take it slow." Trapper placed another soft kiss, then shifted his attention to Hawkeye's nipple. How could he resist? Hawkeye's little gasp told Trapper everything he needed to know. "You like when I play with your pretty little tits?"
Hawkeye let out a laugh that ended in a groan. "Jesus, Trap, you're gonna kill me."
"Nah." He licked the hardening bud and grinned. "You can take it."
Hawkeye honest to God whined as Trapper added some suction, and Trapper felt the remaining amount of blood in his head travel directly south. He wanted to keep drawing those noises out, keep making Hawkeye feel special and wanted and good, giving him pleasure in all the ways he'd finally let himself admit that he imagined. He kissed across Hawkeye's chest to the other nipple, giving it the same attention, relishing in the noises Hawkeye was letting forth, the little hums and sighs and gasps.
"Trapper, please," Hawkeye groaned. "I need it so bad."
Trapper was getting a little impatient, too. He pulled off and pressed a hard kiss to Hawkeye's forehead, which was starting to bead with sweat. "Okay, sweetheart. Let's get you taken care of, huh?"
"Promise?"
"Oh, I promise. Whaddya say, wanna make a baby with me?"
Hawkeye nodded quickly, staring up at Trapper's face like it held the answer to something. Trapper felt his heart thud, felt all the breath leave his body. Hawkeye was looking at him like he loved him. He hoped it was true. He wanted it to be true.
The jelly he'd prematurely slathered onto his fingers had all but rubbed off, so he added some more, moving downwards on the bed and resting on his knees to see Hawkeye's cock, red and swollen, bobbing against his hip. It was almost cute, Trapper thought absurdly.
"Start with two, Trap. I can take it. Start with two."
Trapper didn't argue. Why should he? Hawkeye knew what he could handle far better than Trapper did. There was a little resistance at first, so Trapper went slow, the way that nurse had done for him. Hawkeye moaned lowly and reached a hand downwards to grip Trapper's shoulder.
"Feels good. Feels so good, Trap."
"Yeah?" Trapper breathed out. "I'm glad."
He fell into a trance, stretching Hawkeye open and listening to all the sweet little noises Hawkeye was making. He'd be happy to get him off like this, just keep adding fingers until Hawkeye finished solely from being filled to the brim, but neither of them were in the mood for that tonight. They needed each other, needed to join together like man and wife, like it was a real honeymoon. Trapper wished it could be real, but they'd make it as real as possible.
"You ready, Hawk?"
"Yes, for the love of God, Trapper, yes."
Trapper lined himself up, paying attention to Hawkeye's reactions as he pressed and sank in. When he tensed, Trapper stopped, waiting for the go ahead before moving any further.
"Christ, you're bigger than you look."
Trapper snorted and shook his head. "Thanks. You alright?"
"Never better." Hawkeye hooked his leg around Trapper's hips, pulling him in the rest of the way. Trapper gasped at the tight, warm heat as he bottomed out, similar but different enough from what he was used to.
It would have been strange, if it wasn't Hawkeye. A lot of things they did together would be strange if it was anyone else.
Trapper didn't like how methodical it felt, like he was pinning Hawkeye down without really touching him. He worked an arm under Hawkeye's waist, pulling him closer by the small of his back. Hawkeye must have liked that, because he moaned right in Trapper's ear.
"Yeah?"
"Give it to me, Trap. Come on."
Trapper nodded and leaned in to kiss him, thrusting and pulling at the same time, pinned by Hawkeye's freakishly long legs and held in place by his arms against his back. Good God, Hawkeye had a grip when he wanted something badly enough to use his muscles. They didn't need words. Everything they could possibly say was already out in the open.
Hawkeye broke the kiss and sucked Trapper's neck like a leech. Twin marks, Trapper realized. Their own special brand of wedding rings. He felt woozy, not just from the alcohol but from the company.
With his free hand, Trapper stroked him, matching the slow, deep pace they'd set for themselves. Hawkeye's cock was so slick it was dripping.
"Trap," Hawkeye keened against his jawline. "Not gonna last."
Trapper wasn't sure how much he had left in the tank, either. It was too good, too raw, too much in all the best possible ways. He thrust a little harder, stroked a little faster. "Come on, sweetheart. Come on, you can do it."
"Trap."
"You're gonna look so fuckin' pretty with my baby in you, Hawk. Irresistible. So…shit, round and soft. And everyone's gonna know, once it comes out and looks like me. They're gonna know we belong to each other."
Hawkeye came with a sob, clutching Trapper so tight he'd have to check the mirror for any half-moon cuts. Trapper wasn't far behind.
They laid there, panting and sweating and holding each other. Trapper stayed inside, even as he felt himself soften and felt semen dribble out. He didn't want to move.
"Trapper?"
"Yeah, Hawk?"
"I liked that."
Trapper huffed a laugh and closed his eyes. "I'd hope so, because otherwise you're a world class faker."
"I don't just mean the sex."
Trapper knew that. Of course he knew that. He could read Hawkeye Pierce better than anyone else in the world. What was the point of being best friends if he didn't know what Hawkeye meant?
"Good. I don't either."
Hawkeye shifted under him and sighed. "I wish this could be…I wish you could really do it, you know? I know it's weird."
"Wish I could really do what?"
"Have a baby with me. I wish it could be real."
Trapper didn't know what to make of that. Maybe it was Hawkeye saying he loved him, in his own strange way. "Maybe someday it can be. Who knows?"
Hawkeye seemed to like that answer, so Trapper kissed his temple and tried to fall asleep. They could clean up in the morning.