yes i did notice the implosion. moving along.
the six strange things about me meme1. I can't stand to have anything drawn on my skin. ive never used my hands as notepads, drawn smiley faces or whatever. when im writing feverishly and getting ink on them, i have to wash it off. it annoys me. a lot
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ok, i'm sorry this sucks sooooo bad. i've been watching early MASH and I can totally SEE H/H but I can't seem to write it. gave it a shot.
hawkeye/henry first kiss
Henry’s Illinois sweater is inside out, gin slopped on his army pants. His back is on more-than-friendly-terms with the Supply Tent and Pierce - Hawkeye - is right there, flooding his personal space. It’s the twist of Hawkeye’s lips, or the twist of Henry’s sweater in Hawkeye’s fist - one or the other or both, that are sobering. He feels like he’s just waking up.
“Pierce,” Henry’s voice wavers. “I’d be mighty grateful if you could tell me how I got to be where I’m not supposed to be.”
“Where are you, Henry?”
“On my way to hell, I’d imagine.”
Hawkeye grins, and his eyes are glassy, and it’s mostly just the booze. “You don’t remember being bombed?”
“Sure, I’m bombed right now.”
Hawkeye’s pressing into him awfully close, and that’s not the problem here. The problem is digging into Hawkeye’s thigh, advocating his advances. “The camp was bombed Henry, and the nurses went off.”
Henry grins sheepishly, trying to ignore the lack of snide remarks from Hawkeye. The way his voice dips and purrs like he’s seducing. “Out in the sun too long, hey?”
“Then a fight broke out in Post Op, Burns’ cot mysteriously caught fire and for some reason, and no relation to the former I’m sure, Houlihan’s singed-holey bra was taped to the Officer’s Club sign. Is any of this coming back to you?”
“Um, I think … well, the fire … have I been drinking?”
“What else would you do in the face of a crisis?”
“Well, hell, if my camps falling apart I think maybe I oughtta be out there with it, don’t you?”
“There’s just one order form you have to sign, Henry, okay?”
“What do you need?”
Hawkeye didn’t kiss Henry with the gentility he showed his women; no Clark Gable, soft lighting, strong hands. Just need, and desperation, and in the hazy corners of his mind Henry wonders: how many people turned him down, before he settled on me?
“Pierce,” Henry warns, pulling his face away. His cheeks burn from their grazing stubble.
“Look, Henry, if you’re-“
“Could we take this some place else? Something’s jabbing some place that it shouldn’t be jabbing and it’s kind of killing the mood.”
“Are you sure that’s not just me?”
Henry sighed and pushed past with a strong shoulder. This was no time for pride. “Come on, my office.”
Hawkeye shuffles behind him. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s hope Radar moved the jeep parked next to your desk.”
They’d make a pit stop at the still, Henry decided.
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