MASH. Hawkeye/BJ. Dad
TITLE: Dear Dad, part V
AUTHOR: Sage Harper
FANDOM: MASH
PAIRING: Hawkeye/BJ
GENRE: Slash
PROMPT: Dad
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 1,032
SUMMARY: with no one else who’s understand, Hawkeye sends a missive.
WARNINGS: N/A
NOTES: A prequel of sorts to ‘within four walls’
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, just borrowing.
Dear Dad,
This is going to be weird I know, writing to you when we already live in the same house. Well that we did anyway, technically you don’t live anywhere any more unless your last stop is that patch on the hillside with mom and sis. Sometimes I forget what happened, and imagine that you’re all just on a picnic. It’s a nice spot for that.
So, anyway I just thought it was important to tell you. For this to be a close to the end conversation, people always say the most important things to each other when they’re standing in the doorway; metaphorical or otherwise.
The thing is, the big thing, what I’m waffling on not telling you. Is that I’m in love with BJ.
See I wasn’t initially going to write that. I was shooting more for; I have this kind of thing for BJ. A bit of a crush maybe. It’s probably just cabin fever, projecting, transference, some psycho-babble stuff like that. A generally not too significant sort of thing, one that you just have to sit tight and wait out by getting fresh air and drinking plenty of orange juice. Like it’s a cold or something.
Of course if I did write that it would be a completely obvious outrageous lie; which I haven’t said anything of that nature to you while you were alive so why start now.
Admittedly yes I have lied by omission; I’m really quite good at that. It’ll be on my headstone won’t it; here lies Hawkeye Pierce, the patron saint of self delusion for the assumed greater good.
What with y’know it generally being quite unethical to pursue a relationship with your married best friend, who happens to be male. So you can’t really throw a parade proclaiming that. After all I’m a doctor; doctors are good people, who help and save and are so cram packed with goodness that if I wasn’t one myself I’d never speak to them. Except when I was sick, obviously.
I’m sick now, in a way no doctor can fix apart from you and BJ. Great as you are dad I don’t think it’s very likely you’ll rise up and have eternal live. Which frankly is about as likely as BJ leaving his wife. I sound like the other woman, I am the other woman. He just doesn’t know it.
He came to the funeral, which as you probably know was yesterday on account of you being guest of honour. BJ got a flight into Boston and then got a ride with Charles. Which I suppose all things consider good old Chuck being nice to me might signify some chain of equally unlikely things. He brought me a hamper, of fancy food, to spare me from having to subsist only on all the casseroles and jello brought round by your fans. So he hasn’t really changed.
BJ hasn’t changed either. He’s still a great big lug with the sandy hair, twinkly eyes, and the moustache. I didn’t even mind that, which shows how bad it’s got that I can even love the caterpillar on his face. Still devoted to his sweet baby girl, she’s growing like a weed. Looks like a beautiful girl version of him; not that he isn’t beautiful too.
With everything that had happened I didn’t censor my emotions that way I had in Korea. It all just fell away in this complete mess because having people in the house made me realise how empty is when they’re gone. You’ve left quite a vacuum for someone so quiet and tidy.
Last night BJ insisted on sleeping on my bedroom floor, me in the bed. It was sort of like old times; just better version of them obviously because now we have plumbing and any shelling is thousands of miles away. Apparently I’m too old to get drafted for that one, having already done my time, huzzah I suppose.
It got to me then, with the house being so quiet and all. I never even uttered a sound, but he knew. He always knew, always knows. I’d been scared that after all this time apart we wouldn’t have it any more, but we do. So he got into the bed, spooned against me. His breath so warm and soft against my hair. His arms stronger than I ever remember them being. I’ll stop before it all gets too much like a romance novel. It wasn’t romantic though, or sexual, or anything wrong. Just … right. This was the way it should be. Even said that to myself, this is where I should be every night for the rest of my life.
I’d somehow forgotten about that whole him being happily married thing, maybe he has too. The happy part I mean; he talked a bit about Peg, but not that much, and it was always about stuff they were doing separately. You can probably guess that she’s not here, but rather back in Mill Valley with the beautiful daughter, the cute dog, and the delightful house. The image of it goddamn kills me; it’s so perfect, so him. But then we all know these shows of happiness can just be a shell. Or maybe I’m just projecting. There’s no one else who can be objective and knows him so well, apart from Charles. But yeah, like that’s an option.
So there you have it; I slept with someone before the first date. Which is at once terrifying, impressive, and oddly thrilling seeing as it was BJ. I do love him; enough that I’m starting to think maybe some of this huge gaping hole in my heart left by my becoming fully fledged orphan and sole surviving heir might get filled up. Enough that I can make it through the day as a functional human being, at least as much as my natural ability will allow.
I have to go now Dad, BJ is making us French toast. It’s the first thing I’ve felt like eating in a fortnight, so better not scupper that. But I’ll come back, and write you some more if you like.
Putting the love in your loving son,
Hawkeye
AUTHOR: Sage Harper
FANDOM: MASH
PAIRING: Hawkeye/BJ
GENRE: Slash
PROMPT: Dad
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 1,032
SUMMARY: with no one else who’s understand, Hawkeye sends a missive.
WARNINGS: N/A
NOTES: A prequel of sorts to ‘within four walls’
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, just borrowing.
Dear Dad,
This is going to be weird I know, writing to you when we already live in the same house. Well that we did anyway, technically you don’t live anywhere any more unless your last stop is that patch on the hillside with mom and sis. Sometimes I forget what happened, and imagine that you’re all just on a picnic. It’s a nice spot for that.
So, anyway I just thought it was important to tell you. For this to be a close to the end conversation, people always say the most important things to each other when they’re standing in the doorway; metaphorical or otherwise.
The thing is, the big thing, what I’m waffling on not telling you. Is that I’m in love with BJ.
See I wasn’t initially going to write that. I was shooting more for; I have this kind of thing for BJ. A bit of a crush maybe. It’s probably just cabin fever, projecting, transference, some psycho-babble stuff like that. A generally not too significant sort of thing, one that you just have to sit tight and wait out by getting fresh air and drinking plenty of orange juice. Like it’s a cold or something.
Of course if I did write that it would be a completely obvious outrageous lie; which I haven’t said anything of that nature to you while you were alive so why start now.
Admittedly yes I have lied by omission; I’m really quite good at that. It’ll be on my headstone won’t it; here lies Hawkeye Pierce, the patron saint of self delusion for the assumed greater good.
What with y’know it generally being quite unethical to pursue a relationship with your married best friend, who happens to be male. So you can’t really throw a parade proclaiming that. After all I’m a doctor; doctors are good people, who help and save and are so cram packed with goodness that if I wasn’t one myself I’d never speak to them. Except when I was sick, obviously.
I’m sick now, in a way no doctor can fix apart from you and BJ. Great as you are dad I don’t think it’s very likely you’ll rise up and have eternal live. Which frankly is about as likely as BJ leaving his wife. I sound like the other woman, I am the other woman. He just doesn’t know it.
He came to the funeral, which as you probably know was yesterday on account of you being guest of honour. BJ got a flight into Boston and then got a ride with Charles. Which I suppose all things consider good old Chuck being nice to me might signify some chain of equally unlikely things. He brought me a hamper, of fancy food, to spare me from having to subsist only on all the casseroles and jello brought round by your fans. So he hasn’t really changed.
BJ hasn’t changed either. He’s still a great big lug with the sandy hair, twinkly eyes, and the moustache. I didn’t even mind that, which shows how bad it’s got that I can even love the caterpillar on his face. Still devoted to his sweet baby girl, she’s growing like a weed. Looks like a beautiful girl version of him; not that he isn’t beautiful too.
With everything that had happened I didn’t censor my emotions that way I had in Korea. It all just fell away in this complete mess because having people in the house made me realise how empty is when they’re gone. You’ve left quite a vacuum for someone so quiet and tidy.
Last night BJ insisted on sleeping on my bedroom floor, me in the bed. It was sort of like old times; just better version of them obviously because now we have plumbing and any shelling is thousands of miles away. Apparently I’m too old to get drafted for that one, having already done my time, huzzah I suppose.
It got to me then, with the house being so quiet and all. I never even uttered a sound, but he knew. He always knew, always knows. I’d been scared that after all this time apart we wouldn’t have it any more, but we do. So he got into the bed, spooned against me. His breath so warm and soft against my hair. His arms stronger than I ever remember them being. I’ll stop before it all gets too much like a romance novel. It wasn’t romantic though, or sexual, or anything wrong. Just … right. This was the way it should be. Even said that to myself, this is where I should be every night for the rest of my life.
I’d somehow forgotten about that whole him being happily married thing, maybe he has too. The happy part I mean; he talked a bit about Peg, but not that much, and it was always about stuff they were doing separately. You can probably guess that she’s not here, but rather back in Mill Valley with the beautiful daughter, the cute dog, and the delightful house. The image of it goddamn kills me; it’s so perfect, so him. But then we all know these shows of happiness can just be a shell. Or maybe I’m just projecting. There’s no one else who can be objective and knows him so well, apart from Charles. But yeah, like that’s an option.
So there you have it; I slept with someone before the first date. Which is at once terrifying, impressive, and oddly thrilling seeing as it was BJ. I do love him; enough that I’m starting to think maybe some of this huge gaping hole in my heart left by my becoming fully fledged orphan and sole surviving heir might get filled up. Enough that I can make it through the day as a functional human being, at least as much as my natural ability will allow.
I have to go now Dad, BJ is making us French toast. It’s the first thing I’ve felt like eating in a fortnight, so better not scupper that. But I’ll come back, and write you some more if you like.
Putting the love in your loving son,
Hawkeye