AUTHOR: Nikki Harrington
PAIRING: Benjamin Franklin 'Hawkeye' Pierce/BJ Hunnicutt
SUB-GENRE: First Time
SUMMARY: Hawkeye finally gets BJ into bed. So why does he feel so guilty about it?
WORD COUNT: 2,770
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for sharpiesgal: P - Poker night
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I merely borrow them from time to time.
Hawkeye lay in his bed with BJ held tightly in his arms. They were both naked and the state of Hawkeye's sheet and blanket would leave nothing to the imagination as to what they had been doing. Finally, Hawkeye had got what he had wanted from the moment he had set eyes on BJ. He had got BJ into his arms, into his bed; he had kissed him, made love to him, made him his. Except of course BJ wasn't his and never would be his. Oh, maybe Hawkeye could borrow him for a while, pretend that BJ was his, but it was only an illusion. A beautiful, bitter sweet, painful illusion.
He sighed and kissed the sleeping BJ's head. They had made love; they had made love more than once; they had made love and it had been as wonderful as Hawkeye had dreamed, imagined and fantasized it would be. It had been perfect, or as perfect as anything ever can be. It hadn't been awkward, lips had met perfectly, teeth hadn't clashed together, noses hadn't bumped together; they had fitted seamlessly together. Hands had moved over bodies, undoing buttons, revealing skin, stroking, caressing, kissing, licking, sucking, bringing about the inevitable final release. It really had been wonderful. Hawkeye had got what he had always wanted; so why did he feel so damn guilty?
Oh, it wasn't because BJ was happily, blissfully even, married with a young child - well, it was partly that, of course it was, but really if anyone should feel guilty over that it should be BJ not Hawkeye. After all, Hawkeye wasn't the one with the perfect wife and perfect little girl. No, it was the way he had finally got BJ into his bed. He sighed, kissed BJ again and thought back to the previous night; well the previous day really, because that's how it had all begun.
A twenty-four hour cease-fire had been called, Hawkeye didn't know why, even Colonel Potter seemed somewhat hazy as to the details, but no one was going to object or argue. Twenty-four hours without the stench of blood and death. Twenty-four hours without cutting into people. Twenty-four hours without facing the daily choice of who would live and who would die. Twenty-four hours without being on their feet for hour after hour after hour. Twenty-four hours without having to worry that the big red crosses wouldn't put off the enemy. Twenty-four hours without having to worry if supplies would hold out. Twenty-four hours of blissful peace. Twenty-four hours of doing exactly what they wanted to do.
The first thing Hawkeye did was to start the still and declare it would be poker night. The first thing Charles did was to take a jeep and drive off, saying he wouldn't be back until the following morning. Hawkeye wasn't sorry to see him go, it meant they could hold poker night in the swamp without having to worry about Charles suddenly deciding to play his records or declare he was going to bed, thus everyone had to go, or simply just sit and sigh and make disparaging remarks.
Given they had a free day, an uninterrupted day, Hawkeye decided to put more effort into planning the poker night than he usually did. Thus by the time early evening arrived he had managed to procure not only alcohol but also, given they were a M*A*S*H unit, some fairly fancy finger food.
"It's going to be a great night, Beej," he said, grinning at BJ who was sprawled on his bed reading a book.
BJ looked up at him and smiled; it was the smile Hawkeye loved, the smile he had realized BJ never bestowed on anyone else. "I'm sure it will be, Hawk. I'm looking forward to it."
Hawkeye rubbed his hands. "So am I. And you know what?"
"What?" BJ put his book down, swung his feet down and sat up.
"I'm glad it's just going to be us; the 4077," he clarified. "It feels right it's just us and not anyone else."
BJ grinned. "Yeah. It does, Hawk. What time do we kick off?"
"Eight o'clock. Time enough to have dinner and go to the Officers' Club before coming back here. Oh, it's going to be great, Beej. Really great. And we won't have to worry about having the perfect hand and getting interrupted by ambulances." He rubbed his hands together and performed a little jig. "It's really going to be great. Great!" He beamed and again rubbed his hands together and did another little jig.
BJ smiled and stood up. He went over to Hawkeye and put his hand his shoulder. "You're really excited, aren't you, Hawk?"
Hawkeye grinned and said. "You know what, Beej. I am. And I've got an idea."
BJ looked at him. "Go on."
"Okay. How about you and me have a side-bet?"
BJ frowned slightly. "What kind of side-bet?"
"Whichever one of us wins the most, he gets to tell the other one to do something and they have to do it. What do you think?"
"That you've been drinking without telling me," BJ said and then laughed. "Okay," he said, grabbing a glass and filling it from the still. He handed it to Hawkeye and filled another glass and held it up. "Let's drink to that."
Hawkeye touched his glass to BJ's. "Whatever, Beej," he said, his tone suddenly serious. "Whatever. The winner gets to tell the other one what to do and they do it; whatever it is. Whatever ."
BJ gave him an odd look and then smiled. "I got it the first time, Hawk. Whatever. Winner in effect takes all. Why do you keep stressing it? What do you have in mind if you win, getting me into bed?" He laughed lightly and gave Hawkeye another unreadable look.
To his horror Hawkeye heard himself say, "Something like that, yeah." Hastily he laughed, slapped BJ on the shoulder, drained his glass and refilled it. He then quite deliberately leered at BJ and said, his tone somewhat lecherous, "You still up for it?"
BJ held his gaze; once again Hawkeye couldn't read it. "Oh, I am. Are you sure you're still up for it?" he said, his tone as unreadable was his gaze.
Just for a fleeting second Hawkeye suddenly wasn't as sure as he had been. However, it had been his suggestion; his tease. Thus, he shrugged, drained his glass and refilled it and said, "Sure I am, Beej. Sure I am. Sure I am," he said for a third time, as he once again emptied and refilled his glass.
His arm around BJ's shoulders they made their way from the swamp to the mess tent where dinner actually turned out to be edible. It seemed even those on kitchen duty were happy to have a day off from the blood, death and shooting and thus they had put some effort into dinner. Everyone was in high spirits, laughing, talking about what they had done on their day off and what they were going to do that evening.
At one point Margaret, who had been having dinner with her nurses, came over to Hawkeye and said she'd been invited to join an impromptu party which the nurses were throwing and so she wouldn't be at the poker game. From the sparkle in her eyes, Hawkeye got the feeling she was delighted her nurses had included her, even though she did enjoy the poker nights.
Eight o'clock found Hawkeye, BJ, Colonel Potter, Father Mulcahy, Radar, Klinger, Rizzo, and Igor gathered in the swamp around a couple of tables covered with money, cards, poker chips, bottles of beer and glasses. The food was on another nearby tables.
"This is great, isn't it?" Hawkeye exclaimed, grinning broadly at everyone as he dealt the cards. "We're going to have so much fun."
"Yeah, Hawk," BJ said, his tone almost one of 'let's humor the kid'. "It's great."
"It was a grand idea, son," Colonel Potter said, putting his hand on Hawkeye's shoulder. "Just what the doctor ordered." Everyone laughed and began to talk at once, making it quite clear how much they approved of this particular poker night.
Some three hours later their spirits were still high, the booze still flowed, the food had all been demolished, the chips had exchanged hands more than once, and Hawkeye noticed that BJ hadn't won a hand all evening. He also noticed that, more than once, rather than showing his hand BJ had quickly mixed his cards in with the discarded ones. There was nothing wrong with doing that, but to Hawkeye's slightly fuzzy brain it seemed kind of strange. Hawkeye on the other hand was having the evening of his life; his pile of chips was at least three times the size of anyone else's.
A couple of hours later Colonel Potter called an end to the evening and to Hawkeye's surprise no one really objected. It took a good half an hour for everyone to get out of the swamp; some of them were far steadier on their feet than others.
Hawkeye and BJ stood, arms around one another's shoulders, in the doorway of the swamp and waved madly until everyone was out of sight.
"That was great, wasn't it, Beej?" Hawkeye said, when Colonel Potter had finally vanished. He turned to BJ and put his hands on BJ's cheeks and squeezed them. "Really great!" He grinned.
BJ smiled at him. "Yeah, Hawk. It really was. It was just what we needed."
"I tell you what I need," Hawkeye said, aware that the tent seemed to be moving just a little.
"What's that, Hawk?"
Was it Hawkeye's imagination, or did BJ's tone sound almost sensual? No, it was his imagination or the drink. He heard himself giggle as he said, "A nightcap. Join me?"
BJ nodded. "Yeah, Hawk. I'll join you. I'll join you in anything you'd like me to."
Hawkeye was too intent on making sure the gin actually went into the glasses and not onto the floor, so it took him a minute or two to actually compute BJ's words. "Huh?" he said, slowly turning around and staring at BJ.
BJ took one of the glasses and shrugged. "Winner takes all, Hawk. You won. I lost. So you get to tell me what I'm going to do. Oh, wait," he added, emptying his glass in one swallow, putting his glass down and crossing to Hawkeye who suddenly found his mouth had become so dry he had to empty his glass. BJ smiled, took it from his hand, put it down and put his arms around Hawkeye. "You've already told me what you'd want if you won, haven't you?"
"What?" Hawkeye had never seen the look that was in BJ's eyes before, certainly not in BJ's eyes. "Beej. What . . ." He fell silent as BJ licked his lips. He almost jumped as BJ then leaned forward and put his mouth on his, kissing him lightly for a moment or two. "Beej?" He murmured, when BJ took his mouth away.
"Winner takes all, Hawk. Your rules. So my bed or yours?"
Actually, Hawkeye mused as BJ shifted slightly in his arms and made a soft noise in his throat, he was amazed given the amount of booze they had both consumed that they had managed to make love; had managed to remain coordinated and awake. But they had; they really, really had. And now . . . And now . . . What happened now?
Where did they go from here? Did they go anywhere or did they simply put it down to a really drunken night? Did they put it down to the exuberance of an entire day without blood, bodies, gunfire or death? Did they laugh about? Did they ignore it? Did they shake hands admit it had been good but say 'never again'? Or did they - No, Hawkeye didn't dare allow himself to go there. He couldn't afford to allow himself to go there. He couldn't. This night had already been so wonderful; he knew he wasn't going to forget it in a hurry.
It had been wonderful, more than wonderful; a word didn't exist to describe how it had been. And Hawkeye felt as guilty as hell. He never should have made the stupid side-bet; by doing so he had in effect forced BJ into bed with him, because BJ was pretty honorable, he wouldn't renege on a bet. He had wanted BJ in his bed from the moment they had met; now he had him there; now he wished he had done it differently. Except there was no other way he could have done it because -
"Hawk?" BJ's sleepy voice penetrated his thoughts.
Hawkeye shifted slightly, trying to put a little more distance between them, without actually falling out of the bed. However, BJ was having none of it and followed Hawkeye as he moved slightly. Aware that if he did move any further, he would fall out, Hawkeye forced himself to remain still and said, "Yeah, Beej?"
"You're thinking too loudly."
"What?" Hawkeye lifted his head so that he could stare at BJ. It wasn't easy to make him out by the pale moonlight, but he could tell BJ was staring at him.
"You're thinking too loudly and too much," BJ added; suddenly his voice was completely free from any hint of slurring.
Hawkeye swallowed hard. "Am I?"
"Yeah. You feel guilty." It wasn't a question. "Well don't."
"BJ, I should never -"
"I cheated." BJ's voice was low and still quite, quite sober.
"What?" Hawkeye said; he wondered if he looked as puzzled as he knew he sounded. "What do you mean, BJ?"
"I cheated tonight during the poker games."
"But you lost." Hawkeye was confused.
BJ shrugged. "Yeah. But I could have won. I could have won easily. I could have won most of the pots you won."
"You could have?"
"Yeah. Why do you think I kept mixing my hands in with the rest of the cards? I didn't want anyone looking at them." BJ pushed himself up onto one elbow; at that moment the moon became brighter and Hawkeye could quite easily see BJ's face; see his expression. It was serious; BJ was serious. BJ was completely serious - which was pretty much a first!
Hawkeye stared up at BJ and opened his mouth. He closed it again when he realized he actually had no idea whatsoever what to say. Finally, given that BJ seemed set on waiting for him to speak he said the only thing that came into his head. "Why?" Even as he asked the question he wasn't entirely certain if he wanted BJ to answer it.
For a moment BJ didn't answer. Then he shrugged and said softly, "Why do you think, Hawkeye?"
Hawkeye frowned. "I don't know, BJ. I don't know what I think. I don't know what to think."
BJ sighed. "I wanted you to win our side-bet. I wanted to go to bed with you." His voice was low and his tone was still very serious. "You see," he added, before Hawkeye could reply, not that he actually knew what to say. "I knew you'd never ask, never suggest, never . . . Well, never do anything; you're too honorable, Hawk. And before you say anything you are; you have your own morals and principles, and married and engaged people are off limits. But if it was a bet . . . Well, it'd be different. So I lost. I deliberately lost, Hawkeye. I quite, quite deliberately lost so that you could win our bet."
"BJ, I -" Hawkeye fell silent as BJ put his fingers on his lips.
"We're here; we're alive. Tomorrow we could easily not be. It happened; I wanted it to happen; I want it to happen again. I can't promise you forever, you know that. I can't promise you anything; at not anything that means anything. All I can repeat is: we're here. So stop thinking and kiss me again."
"BJ, I -" BJ sighed dramatically and silenced Hawkeye by kissing him. For a second or two Hawkeye struggled. Then he heard again BJ's words and decided they were true: they were here; tomorrow they might not be.
He pulled BJ down into his arms and met the kiss with passion and intensity. He would deal with his guilt another time; maybe when he got home to Crabapple Cove. But for now . . . Well for now there wasn't any place for guilt. Not in Korea.