Work Header

Scenes From The Korean War

Chapter Text

Hawkeye didn’t expect anyone to be in the Swamp when he came in that night, least of all who he found. B.J. was down in Seoul for a few days with Radar, sorting out a medical supply shipment error, and Frank had managed to wrangle a 3-day pass in Tokyo. He fully expected an empty tent. What he got instead was Father Mulcahy.

He was sprawled out in Hawk’s chair, left leg draped over the arm. In his right hand he held a half full martini glass. Judging from the decanter, the Father had helped himself to several glasses. His left arm was propped up, fingering his silver cross. He hadn’t looked up when Hawkeye turned on the light, just continued his reflection of the cross.

“Father, please help your self.” Hawkeye said, crossing to pour himself a glass. “Although I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Few ever do.” The Father replied, not looking around, but instead draining his glass.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hawk refilled the Father’s glass, and that finally earned a look from the shorter man.

“Thank you.” Mulcahy took a sip this time, but didn’t answer his question.

“Father?” He turned and sat down on his cot, trying not to brush the Father’s foot.

“I actually intended to be gone before you arrived.” He hiccupped then giggled. The sound was soft. “But I seemed to have had a few more drinks than planned.”

“Do this often?” Hawk smiled.

“Oh, no. No, not regularly, but it’s been a bit of a off day for me. And I rather thought you would be occupied at the movie with that new nurse.”

“No, she stood me up.” He took a gulp of his drink. An off day? He thought about the day, but nothing came to mind that made this worse than any other day.

“Oh, I see.” He took another sip from his glass.

“You seemed ok this morning.” He had actually seen the man, he had come into the showers just as Hawkeye was toweling off.

“Hawkeye.” The Father giggled again, and the taller man actually took a look at him. He was much drunker than he thought. There were two spots of color high up on his cheeks, and the way he was sitting, the giggling.

“Father?” He asked again, unsure of what to say. At the word, the man visibly flinched.

“Father.” Mulcahy drained his glass and stood. “My real name is Francis.” He thrust the glass into Hawk’s hand. “Hawk,” He started again then trailed off.


“I saw you, in the shower this morning.” The spots of color on his cheeks deepened, looking down at Hawk.

“Was I that bad, you had to get blotto?” Hawkeye said, doing what he always did, falling back on jokes.

“Stupid.” Mulcahy stepped forward and slapped him. It wasn’t hard but it stung. He left without a word.


Hawk's fingers went boneless in shock, spilling gin all over his boots. What just happened? Did quiet, polite, Father Mulcahy, just slap him? While drunk?
Hawk tried to pour himself another drink, and when he spilled more on his hand then into the glass, he drank directly from the decanter instead, before setting it down. He couldn’t think, but his mind was reeling.

Surely the Father had seen naked men before. This was the army after all, even the priests had training. He leaned over, elbows on knees, and clutched his head in his hands. As if holding his head steady would maybe steady his thoughts.

Hawkeye tried to think of any other time Father Mulcahy acted like this. He could remember all the times he had acted as a nurse when they needed him, or leant a sympathetic ear. The priest was a constant here at the 4077, helping them all cope. Helping the sisters at the orphanage. Just plain helping. But Hawkeye could think of a few other times the Father had acted out of character.

Once when his superior came to camp to check up on things. But that was understandable. The other. Well. It was the day Henry had Radar set up the hot tub. He and Trapper had been walking around in bathing trunks. He had been running back to the Swamp, grabbing something or other, and he had run full length into the shorter man. They almost crashed to the ground, only Hawk's fast reflexes held them up. He had managed to wrap the priest in a bear hug of sorts, steadying them both.
Of course he had apologized to the priest, and the man had responded by gripping his cross tight in his fist. A blush crept across his cheeks and his breathing sped up as he stammered his apologies as well. Until tonight, Hawk had assumed it was nervousness from the accident. But he was beginning to have doubts.

This was Father Mulcahy they were talking about here. Hawk really wished they were a they, maybe if B.J. had been here to see it, they could figure this thing out. At the same time, if B.J. was here, they would just make some jokes about it and that would be the end of it. Hawkeye didn’t want that to be the end of it. And he knew that priests themselves were supposed to be messengers of God. But they were also human and they weren’t excluded from temptation. But that couldn’t be what this was, temptation. This was Father Mulcahy. He swallowed down the last of his gin.

Now that he had opened up the idea to a train of thought, maybe there were other times to consider. Like the time Hawk had to do the foot inspection. He had seemed much more talkative that day. All the times the Father turned away from his duties and his religion to hang out with them. To play poker, or play piano at the Officers Club, or even just have a drink. Or anytime he thought he was in the mess tent alone and then turned with a cup of coffee to see the Father watching him.

It wasn’t like Hawk hadn’t been watching himself. He was an equal opportunity watcher. An equal opportunity lover. His forays over to the other gender were not frequent, and they weren’t something he advertised. Since he had come to Korea, he had relegated himself to strictly watching. He didn’t want anyone to judge him by things that weren’t their business. In this tight knit community, he couldn’t afford to ask around or word would get out. So, he had kept his actions to the female side of things, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look. B.J. when he stretched to put laundry on the line. Mulcahy when he was just in his black t-shirt. He often found himself thinking of that tight shirt when he had a few minutes alone.

Was Father Mulcahy just trying to get away from horrible boredom of war, whenever he spent time away from his duties? Or could it be, was it something else?


He got to his feet and left his tent in a hurry. He made his way across camp, thought about knocking and then simply just opened the door to the Father’s tent. The man was lying on his cot, his boots still on, right arm flung over his eyes. His cross was gripped tight in his left hand. Anything witty Hawkeye had thought of on the way over left his head all in a rush.

“Please Hawkeye.” The Father’s voice was soft, already knowing who it was. “I just want to be alone”

“Father, Francis, I want to talk to you.” He crossed the small tent and got down on one knee at the man’s bedside. “It took me too long to put this all together.”

“Shut up, it took you five seconds after I made a fool of myself. I would prefer if you would just go away, I can’t do this.” His voice broke a little in the middle. Hawkeye laid his hand on Mulcahy’s. The death grip on the cross didn’t let up.

“You’re only human.”

“I’m a priest!”

“That doesn’t exclude you being a human.” He rubbed his thumb softly over the man’s knuckles.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make excuses for me. Don’t be kind to me.” His voice was wrecked with pain.

“You deserve kindness.” Hawk didn’t stop the movement of the thumb.

“If you don’t quit, I’m going to do something that I can’t take back.”

“All from a little kindness?”

“It’s too much if it’s from you.” The Father finally let the arm covering his eyes fall away. They were red and bloodshot. Rimmed with tears.

“Francis, it’s going to be okay.”

“Oh, when you say my name Hawkeye.” He shook his head.

“I’ll say it all night for you.”

“Don’t joke about this.”

“Who says I’m joking?” Hawkeye moved forward and pressed his lips gently to the priests. He didn’t move, didn’t return the kiss, didn’t break away. But he let his eyes fall closed. Hawkeye pulled back.

“Hawkeye.” The Father kept his eyes closed.

“It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Doesn’t it though.” He opened his eyes again.

“No. It can just be us. Here. Together.” Neither of them spoke for a long while, just staring at each other.

“Are you serious, this isn’t a joke?” Francis’s voice was cold.

“I’m full of jokes, but this isn’t one of them.”

“I have to think. I need time, to think.” He shifted a little.

“Of course. Where are we gonna go?” Hawkeye said. The Father moved his arm and cupped the back of Hawk’s neck.

“Meet me tomorrow, after breakfast.” He said, and moved his hand down to cup the other man’s cheek.

“Where?” Hawkeye leaned into the touch.

“Oh my.” Francis bit his lower lip gently, cast his eyes to the side, and moved forward, pressing his lips to the doctors.

Soft but insistent. Hawk melted against him, letting out a small needy sound. The Father slid his hand up into the doctor’s hair, and gripped, pulling him back to look at him.

“Please make that sound again.”

“I’m not that easy, earn it.” Hawk turned his head slightly, just barley presenting the hollow of his throat. Francis pressed a rough kiss there.

“I’m supposed to be taking the time to think about this.” He murmured against Hawk’s throat.

“I invite you to keep thinking.” Hawk said. The Father kissed him again, and then bit experimentally. Hawk couldn’t hold back the small whimper that escaped him.

“Lovely.” Francis kissed Hawkeye’s throat one more time and pulled back again.

“Francis.” Hawk said, heart pounding in his chest. His cock was half hard, pinging his mind for attention.

“I want to hear you say that in every way possible. But Hawkeye,” His eyes were wide. “If this happens. I want it to be because you and I want it. Not because we’ve had a few drinks, and can’t hold back.” Hawkeye leaned forward, and kissed him again. Just once and as gently as the first time. Then he stood.

“The mess tent, tomorrow morning?” The priest asked.

“Perfect, I’ll go over there and wait.” He paused. “You had an awful lot to drink, will you be okay tomorrow?” Hawk asked.

“I’ll have lots of water. If I do have a hangover, it will be small.”

“Okay.” He took the other man’s hand gently and looked over him, just taking him in. Spread out so tempting before him, and if the bulge in his pants was any indication, apparently just as turned on as him. “I’ve got to leave or I’ll kiss you again.”

“Till tomorrow.” The Father said, squeezing his hand.



The next morning Hawk stayed behind in the mess after everyone left, claiming the need for a third cup of coffee. If B.J. had been around, there may have been a problem. But no one really cared. Francis hadn't been at breakfast. That wasn't that unusual. But when his third cup turned to a fourth, and it had been an hour, he knew the Father wasn't coming. He was disappointed but understood.

He drained the last of the muck in his mug and left it on the table. He had duty in an hour. Which meant no booze. And God, he could use a drink. He put his hands on the small of his back and stretched as he left the mess. If the Father wanted to forget last night, that was fine. He would pretend nothing happened, it wouldn’t be the first time. He turned a corner and walked back towards his tent.

"Hawkeye!" A voice called. He turned and saw the man himself hurrying towards him.

"Father." Hawk said, voice flat.

"What happened to Francis?" He said, voice low.

"Oh, I met him last night! Hell of a guy." The doctor crossed his arms. "But it seems he didn’t want to stick around long. That's ok, I get it."

"I apologize for the delay. I was with a patient." He looked around and seeing no one, placed a hand on Hawk's arm.

"You could have sent someone over to tell me." Hawkeye said.

"I decided that would be unwise." The priest smiled and moved to squeeze Hawk's shoulder.

"Is that because you came to a bad decision? And by bad, I mean bad for me. Of course." Joking was always easier than being serious.

"I did have some time to think." The Father started, but just then Hawkeye saw Klinger round a corner. Not wanting to be seen, or interrupted, he wrapped his arm around the Father and pulled him into the small alley between tents. Klinger passed by without so much of a glance. When Hawk pulled back, Francis had a pained look on his face.

"Are you okay?"

"It's my hand, I cut it yesterday, when, well." He uncurled his left hand. There were two small gouges in his palm.

"You should have told me yesterday." He said.

"I was otherwise preoccupied." The shorter man smiled in an absolutely filthy way.

"Come on, I want to clean these." Hawk led him by the shoulder towards the pre op building.


Hawkeye swabbed out the cuts with peroxide. They weren't really that bad, but Korea was a cesspool and he wasn't taking any chances. Then he covered them with bacitracin and gauze packs, as well as a gauze wrap.

"Really now, they weren't that bad." The priest turned his hand this way and that, observing Hawk's handiwork.

"Better safe than sorry. Plus, I may need this hand." He screwed the cap to the bottle back on.

"Oh will you now?" He quirked one eyebrow up at the doctor and the grin was pure evil.

"The decision has gone to a vote. Unanimous in favor of yes." Hawkeye said.

"I would like to speak with you." Francis clasped his hands gently, but didn't look like he was breaking bad news.

"Go ahead, I'm all ears." Hawkeye hopped up and sat on the table next to the man.

"As a priest, I’m supposed to above temptation and desire. But as you said last night, I am also human. Despite what I said last night, I do know this. There is a difference between watching and touching. But I’ve been watching a long time and I had made my peace with that. It's been very hard for me. To come to terms with that." The man sighed.

"If this is too much for you," Hawk started.

"No. Let me explain. Korea is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It hurts my heart, and destroys me everyday.” He shook his head. “It’s all I can do some days to put myself back together. Then, when I met you, watching suddenly wasn't enough anymore. And I’m run too raw by this place, my defenses are too low to deny myself admitting that. I’ve wanted you a long time, but you couldn’t want me, and really, I shouldn’t have you.” He shook his head. “What I mean is that here you are, sitting next to me, and I'm dreaming." He gripped Hawk's hand with his un-bandaged hand.

"You sure I'm not corrupting you?" The doctor said, laying a gentle kiss on the back of Francis's hand.

"You won't be saying that after I get five minutes alone with you." That wicked smile was back.

"Oh my!” Hawk flapped his hand at his neck in mock southern offense.

"Yesterday was just the proverbial straw that broke the camels back, as it were."

“Was it that good?" Hawk said, deliriously happy.

"Do you even know how good you look?" It was the Father's turn to lay a kiss on their entwined hands.

"I see the same thing when I look at you. And I haven't even seen your naughty bits yet."

"When would you like too?" Francis said.

"How does nowish sound to you?" Hawk swung back off the table and pressed himself between the Father’s legs. He gripped the other man’s hips and pulled forward, standing at just the right height to slot them together. He gasped. Francis was already hard.

"Hawkeye," He ground forward, trying for more friction.

"Francis. I'm yours. I'll do whatever you ask." He pushed his hips forward slowly. His cock grew just as hard as the Father’s and even through layers of rough army issued slacks it felt delicious. The priest’s eyes fell closed.

"And what if I want to go slow?" He laid his hands on Hawkeye's shoulders.

"I can respect that. Just say the word." He said, but didn't stop the slow roll of hips, grinding over and over into the pliant man beneath him.

"This is dangerous. Anyone could walk through here." But he didn't stop.

"One last thing and I'll quit." Hawkeye bent and kissed Francis. The priest responded immediately this time, moaning softly into the kiss. Hawk pressed himself as close as he could to the smaller man, trying to take him all in.

Suddenly, the door to Colonel Potter’s office cracked open. Pierce stumbled back seconds before Radar bumbled into the room.

"Ah, back from Seoul Radar?" Father Mulcahy asked, seeming completely at ease. He was amazing.

"Oh yes Father. Oh say gee, what happened to your hand?" Radar was holding a file folder of papers.

"It's rather silly, I'm afraid. I was holding my cross in my fist, a shell went off nearby and I squeezed a little too hard. Hawkeye was gracious enough to patch me up."

"As long as it's not serious." Radar smiled. He turned. "Hawkeye, these are for you. A patient the Colonel wanted you to keep an eye on."

"Ah, work before pleasure, I suppose.” Hawk took the file folder, and flipped it open to study it.

"Oh if you say so Sir." The clerk smiled.

"Thanks for the chart Radar." Hawkeye offered his hand to the Father and helped him off the table. Mulcahy squeezed briefly.

"Anyone in need of me today Radar?" He brushed at the front of his slacks.

"I don't know about that Father."

"Why don't you get all dolled up and swing by Father?” Hawk flipped through the file, trying for nonchalant.

"I suppose it would be wise." Francis caught and held Hawk's gaze for a bare moment.


A little while later Mulchay, with his purple sash, strolled into the post-op ward. Hawkeye's heart leapt in his chest. He resisted the temptation to go to him. Instead, he took his papers and sat down at the little desk in the corner. Mulcahy passed through the patients, introducing himself, offering a kind word here or there. When he made it to where Hawkeye was sitting, he leaned up against the edge of his desk.

"The outfit is very becoming, Francis." Hawk drew the priests name out just a little, emphasizing it.

"The sound of my name on your lips. I will never tire of it." He started to place a hand on the surgeon’s shoulder and then pulled back. "I suppose if Radar has returned, then Captain Hunnicutt has as well."

"A logical conclusion. I saw him a few minutes ago." Hawk threw his arm over the back of the chair he was in. Drawing out the line of his body. Loving the way the other man looked at him.

"So, I had a thought." He squeezed the bible in his hands, as if for courage. "It's very hard to change a hand bandage one handed. Can I trouble you to come by my tent later to rewrap it for me?"

"No trouble at all Father." He couldn't resist anymore, and laid a hand on Mulcahy's knee.

"Do you think anyone would notice if you were out a little longer than it would take to wrap a hand?" He hesitated and then gripped Hawk's hand.

"No, I don't think so." Hawkeye badly wanted to kiss the man. "It's a shame that it's not later now."

"Good things come to those who wait." The Father said.

"You better skedaddle or I'm going to be forced to get all my good things from you now." Hawk bit his lower lip, and the Father smiled.

"I look forward to later Hawkeye."


But the war has an unexpected way of creeping up on you when you manage to forget about it. A little after lunch, they were hit with a wave of casualties. They were in surgery 17 hours. By the time it was over they had lost 9 patients. Not bad when you consider numbers. Horrible when you consider people.


Hawk was drained. He signed a sheaf of papers Radar thrust at him, and then felt a tap on his arm. There was Father Mulcahy, looking just as tired as he felt.

"Ah Father, what can I help you with?"

"I'm afraid during last nights commotion, I lost most of my bandage." He held up his hand. The wrapping was gone, he was simply holding a piece of gauze.

"Ah war. A wonderful thing, we should do it more often." Hawk admired the Father, finding a way to stick to the original plan. After all Radar was standing right there, listening to the whole thing. "Head out Father, I'll grab my bag and meet you at your tent."

Trying not to seem over eager, he strolled his way over to the other side of camp. His bag banged against his hip as he walked. He knocked softly on the door to the Father's tent.

"Anybody home?" He swung the door open. Francis was pacing back and forth a little, and when he saw the door open, he stopped.

"Hawk." He was breathless.

"Oh Francis." The doctor dropped his bag, rushed across the tent and gathered him up. He just held the priest, loving the feel of him pressed against him.

"Oh wait, my hand." It was pressed up between them.

"My mistake, I forgot the reason I'm actually supposed to be here." He waved a hand at the pair of chairs and went to get his bag, taking the time to latch the door as well.

"No, this is just the excuse. Then we get to the real reason why were here." He sat down and held out his hand. Hawkeye sat opposite him and took it gently, examining it.

"Looks good, no redness, no swelling. Any pain?" He grabbed a tube of bacitracin from his bag and squeezed a drop onto each gash.

"Only when I put pressure right on them, or they get crushed by a well-intended Doctor." The Father chuckled.

"My fervor ran away with me." He wrapped the hand again, taping it up. Then he bent and kissed the cup of his palm. "I do, so sincerely, apologize." Still bent at the waist, he turned his face up in supplication.

"Oh my." Francis sounded breathless again, and he gripped the lapels of Hawkeye's jacket, pulling him up into a kiss.

It was like coming home. He slid both his hands up into Hawk's hair, and pulled him in. The doctor slipped his hands along the priest’s hips. For a man of the cloth, Francis had a mouth on him. He was gentle yet insistent, and swiped his tongue along the doctor’s lower lip. Hawk worked the man’s shirt up out of his pants and ghosted the tips of his fingers across the bare skin.

"Your skin is amazing. I can't wait to drag my tongue over every inch." Hawk kissed down to the Father's neck, both of them on the edge of their chairs. He nipped and sucked a little, bringing a moan to the other man's throat.

"Don't stop." Francis tightened the grip he had on the surgeon. "But Hawk."

"I know darling, no marks." He nipped again, and worked his hands around on the Father's hips.

"It’s not about you." He pulled the man off his neck and looked at him.

"I'd love to mark you up. But this is our business, and I'm all about keeping it private." Hawk said, digging his fingers into the soft flesh he held.

"That's driving me wild." The man took his turn at Hawk's neck, kissing softly.

"Shall we shift somewhere slightly less hard?" He shifted in his chair.

"Ah, yes. I have a surprise for you." Francis stood and moved to his cot. He peeled back the layers. "Still regulation sheets I'm afraid. But I talked my way into this." He drew out his hospital corner to reveal two thin cot mattresses instead of one.

"How on earth did you do that?" Hawk asked, amazed.

"Even unkind Supply Sergeant Zale is not immune to the workings of the Lord. Also he owed me 12 dollars. I forgave the debt. And he ‘gave’ me a second mattress." He smiled, a little proud of himself.

"You brilliant, wonderful man." Hawk said.

"I thought it would make the experience more special." The Father said, and cast his eyes down.

"Darling, don't fret. It’s wonderful." Hawk stood and crossed to him.

"That's the second time you've called me darling." He said, kissing the other man.

"Do you mind?"

"I love it as much as when you say my name."

"Then I'll never stop." Hawk sat down on the cot and toed off his boots. In one swift motion, he swung his legs up and pulled the Father into his lap.

"Oh my!" Francis said, wiggling around on top of Hawk.

"Unngh, yes. Here let's just," He gripped the other man’s knee, and flipped him into a proper straddle.

"Just like this morning." Francis said. "But it's time for a little payback." He pumped his hips forward. "It was all I could do to keep my hands off myself when I came back here to change." He said, not stopping the lazy roll of his hips.

"Just the thought of you, hand wrapped around your hard cock, moaning my name." Hawk tightened his grip.

"I'd rather be inside you moaning your name."

"I never imagined I would hear you talk like that."

"I never actually thought you would get to hear me say things like this."

"Do you want to be inside me?" Hawk left one hand on the Father's hip, and cupped the other man’s cheek.

"More than anything." He said, nuzzling into the touch.

It was Hawk's turn to sit up and pull the other man into a kiss. The Father shucked off his over shirt. He pulled back and slipped the Father's glasses off, placing them on the small bookshelf next to the bed. Francis slid Hawk’s over shirt down and off. Then under the hem of the other man's shirt and slid his hands over Hawkeye's stomach. He shivered under the light touch.

"Please don't stop." Hawk said, kissing the man again. He lifted the shirt up and off, letting him fall back to the bed. Then he removed his own.

"Much better." The Father said, eating him up with his eyes.

"Would you look at that." Hawk gripped the Father's wrists and pulled them aside.

"What, is something wrong?" Turning his eyes down, a blush spread across his face.

"Nothing, you're absolutely perfect." Hawkeye rubbed gentle circles with his thumbs.

"Don't say that."

"I only speak the truth. I could stare at you forever." He bit his lower lip.

Hawk pulled him down into another searing kiss, this time opening up the other man’s mouth, deepening the kiss. He felt like he could kiss Francis forever as well. And his dick felt like stone. He could feel his partner's as well, heavy against his thigh. Hawk slipped his hands into the back of the priest’s pants, and up along the curve of his ass. He pushed up, sliding their dicks together. Even through pants, it sent sparks behind his eyelids and heat shooting through his stomach.

"Please, please." Francis panted into Hawk's mouth.

"Tell me what you need." He pressed sloppy wet kisses down his jaw, and licked the cup of Francis's ear. "My darling Francis."

"Touch me, please. I'm aching." He was panting against Hawk's throat.

"Anything you need. Anything." He pumped his hips up, grinding. "Sit up for me." Father Mulcahy sat up in a hurry. Hawk popped the buttons on his fly, and worked his hand into the other mans pants. He palmed his hard cock through his shorts.

"Ohhh, that feels amazing." He thrust against Hawk's hand.

"Stand up," He said, removing his hand. Mulcahy got off the doctor, and Hawk slowly tugged the other man’s pants and shorts down. His cock sprang forward. There wasn't anything he could do except wrap his hand around the base and stroke. He was long and thick, and wonderful.

"I'm on the edge already." The Father groaned.

"Then cum for me. I want to watch you." Hawk licked his lips.

"Nnngh, I want the first time with you to be in you." He said, laying his hand over the Doctor's. "Please."

"If you want it that way, I'm happy to oblige." He stood and undid his own pants. Mulcahy stepped out of his own and helped Hawkeye out of his.

"Oh dear," He said, staring. "You look amazing." He reached out one tentative hand and touched Hawkeye's prick. Hawk made a small keening sound, and took a step into the touch.

"Francis." Hawk pulled him into a kiss.

"Sooner rather than later, Hawk."

"Grab my bag." Hawk sat back into the bed and Francis handed over the bag. He dug into it and came up with a jar of Vaseline.

"I didn't think of that." He looked a little dismayed.

"Don't worry about it now." Hawk took him by the arm and helped him kneel between his legs on the cot.

"I need to tell you something," He gently took the jar out of Hawkeye's hand.

"What's wrong?" Hawk said, leaning up on his elbows.

"I've never, well," He colored.

"Francis, have you never done this?"

"No." He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes. Hawk sat up and took the jar back from the Father.

"I'd be honored to be your first. But I don't want to rush you into anything. Are you sure we aren't taking this too fast?"

"If you'll have me, then I want you. I'm just afraid, I'll be bad." He didn't open his eyes.

"Bad, good. It's all relative." He turned the man’s head toward him. "What matters is us here. Together. Open your eyes." Francis did, almost shyly. "There they are. So blue they make the sky look grey."

"Oh, Hawkeye." He turned into the touch.

"Do you still want to do this now?"

"Very badly."

"Then get ready for a crash course in sex." He pulled the lid of the jar and offered in to the other man. "Scoop up just a little first, and coat yourself." Mulchay did as he was told, stroking his dick to spread the Vaseline around. The sight was intoxicating.

"Like this?" The priest asked, when Hawkeye didn't offer the next step.

"Yes, nnn, keep stroking, just like that." Hawkeye's own cock was twitching in response.


"Sorry, ok, another time for that." He shook his head a little to clear it and offered the jar again. "A little more. I've had some experience here, but you still need to open me up."

"Oh my, yes."

"So be gentle," He said, spreading his legs for the other man. Francis's first touch was cool, but felt amazing.

"I have played a little bit in this area myself." He circled the doctor’s asshole slowly but firmly. Spreading the salve around. With a small moan, he slid the tip of his index finger into Pierce.

"Fuck," The doctor shut his eyes.

"You're so tight."

"Francis!" The man was panting as the priest worked the finger in and out.

"Oh, say my name," He said, making small circular motions with his finger.

"I need, nnnngh, Francis,"

"More?" Mulchay plucked the jar from Hawks rapidly loosening grip.


"Anything." He slipped a second finger into the writhing man beneath him.

"Just like that. Open me up. Get me ready to take you." He moaned the words softly. Francis pumped him with two fingers, unsure of where to go next. Hawk, sensing this, held up his hand and scissored his fingers back and forth. When the priest copied the movement, he was rewarded with a broken string of vulgarities.

"Are you ready? I know it’s too soon. Please, let me be in you, please." The Father leaned down and kissed Hawkeye, alternating pumping and scissoring.

"First curl your fingers as deep as you can in me." Hawk said, through messy kisses.


"You'll love it. Promise." He said. When he did, he touched that hard little bundle of nerves and Hawkeye lost it. He bucked his hips at the other man, and Francis had to stifle his near scream with a hard kiss.

"What was that?" He asked.

"That's my prostate. I just didn't expect you to hit it on the first try."

"You seemed to like that very much."

"Touching it enough will make me cum." Hawk said. Francis curled his fingers again, swallowing up Hawkeye's moans.

"I don’t think I will tire of that."

"Francis, now. Please!" Hawk seemed to be losing his mind, writhing under the priest’s supple hands.

"I can't say no to that plea." He slotted his hips forward. The head of his cock pressed against Hawkeye.

"Oh. Oh. Fuck." Hawk threw his head back, trembling. Francis groaned.

"Exquisite. You feel. So good." Mulcahy pressed his forehead against Hawkeye's. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Fill me all the way." He shifted his hips up, letting another few inches slide into him.

"Yes." He pushed again and bottomed out. "My word you are tight."

"Ah. Just. Let me adjust to you." He opened his eyes, meeting the Father’s.

"Hawkeye." He kissed the surgeon gently.

"Slow at first okay?" He said, and the priest kissed him again. He pulled back with agonizing slowness.

"Like this?" Hawk simply nodded in response. Francis picked up the pace very slowly, plying the willing body underneath him. The Father slid his hands to Hawk's hips and dug in his fingers.

"Darling, I won't break." He cupped the sweet man's face.

"I want to last as long as I can." Francis said, his pace speeding up.

"Oh, just a little more." Hawkeye gasped.

"Come undone for me." He sped up more, and remembering the way the surgeon had moved when he hit his prostate, he changed his angle just a little. Stroking until the man beneath him cried out.

"There, oh fuck. There!" He dug his hands into the sandy blonde hair of the priest.

"Perfect." He leaned in and kissed Hawk, using his tongue to deepen it. Judging by the broken keening sounds coming from the doctor, he was hitting it just right. But it wasn't enough. He reached between them and gripped Hawk's cock, stroking.

"Francis, if you keep that up," Hawk said, breaking the kiss.

"Yes. That's what I want yes. Cum for me." He laid kisses down Hawk's jaw.

"Don't stop, then, whatever you do!" Hawk met this thrusts.

"I may not last much longer." Francis warned.

"Francis!” Hawk stilled and then he was spilling all over the Father's hand. He was convulsing around the Father's dick and that was enough.

"Oh, Hawkeye! Hawkeye!" He cried out and came. Hawkeye's body was spasming around him, milking him for all he was worth. He collapsed in a heap, spent.

Hawk wrapped his arms around Mulchay's back and pressed a kiss to his damp hair. The other man's heart was beating hard. He loved the feeling.

"Shall we clean up?" He asked, rubbing the priest’s back.

"I suppose we should." He said, slipping out of the other man and standing awkwardly. "But, oh, will you be going?"

"Of course not, you'll have to beat me off with a stick from now on." Pierce took the towel Mulcahy offered, wiping himself clean.

He held up his arm to the other man. The priest slipped in next to him, the two of them sharing a space barely intended for one. Mulcahy laid his head on Hawk's chest and pressed against him.

"In case you were wondering, you were fabulous." Hawk said, kissing the top of his head again.

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing." Mulcahy squeezed the man a little.

"And sorry about the cursing. It was all I could do just to keep God out of it."

"It's quite alright. It let me see another side of you." Francis laughed softly.

"Francis, can I ask you something?"


"I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but you held onto that cross so hard you cut your palm. And now,” Hawk said.

"I've been praying on this matter a long time Hawkeye. I’ve known I was a homosexual since I was young. After you came to me in my tent I prayed to the Lord to guide me." He shifted to look up at him.


"One cannot be absolved of a sin that one has no intention of stopping. But the Lord is infinite in his compassion. In his mercy. I decided last night, that if we are truly made in his image, than he will forgive. That being with you does not need to stop me from following my path as a priest."

"The Lord sounds like a swell guy." Hawkeye smiled.

"He loves us both very much." Francis returned the warm smile. "How long do you think you’ll stay?"

"As long as I can." Hawk kissed the other man softly.


Two hours later they were awoken by a loud knock on the tent door. Exhaustion had set in and without meaning to, they had fallen asleep in each other arms.

"Father?" Radar's voice was tentative. He always knocked first in case the Father was in a confession. Even in the small hours or the morning.

"Just one minute Radar!" He struggled out of Hawkeye's grip, both men getting on there feet as quietly as possible. Hawk pulled on his pants and shoved his bag under the bed. Francis slipped into his robe and watched Hawk put on his shirt. He waved Hawkeye out under the tent flap in the back. He grabbed the outstretched hand and kissed it, grinning wildly. Then he snatched his boots and ducked out. Hawkeye stood listening to their conversation.

"Hello Father, sorry to wake you."

"It's quite all right. Is anything the matter?"

"Captain Hunicutt asked you come see a patient of his. Not doing so good."

"Of course. Give me a moment." Hawk heard the door bang shut, and slipped on his boots. He made his way back to the Swamp and he decided to get a little more sleep.


He got about 4 hours when B.J. woke him. Incoming casualty from the 8063. A chest wound patient and all for Pierce. Hawk sent B.J. to bed after the surgery and stayed in post op. He didn't see Francis and hoped the man was in bed.

When he strolled into the Mess tent for dinner, the priest was there. The way he looked up from his book told Hawkeye that the man was only pretending to read it. He moved through the line, not cracking any jokes about surplus food or rock hard biscuits. Just tying to get to the man before anyone else sat with him.

He succeeded and the smile on the Father's face was worth the effort.

"Evening babe." Hawk said when he sat, voice barely above a whisper.

"Hello." Mulcahy bit his lip a little.

"We don't have much time. B.J. just wanted to finish a letter to Peg before coming over." The surgeon tried a bite of the stew and decided it wasn't half bad.

"I wanted to apologize for falling asleep this morning." The priest said.

"No, that was both of us. I forgot how long we'd been up."

"Then I'll thank you. I've never had a chance to do that before." Francis drew his fork through the gravy remains of his own stew.

"Francis, when," He started, and then stopped when B.J. came in. He waved, they waved back.

"I don't know when. But soon. As soon as we can." The priest answered the unfinished question.

"I was half convinced I'd dreamed the whole thing, and also half convinced you'd think better of this and never want to see me again." Hawk took another bite of stew.

“I had some similar problematic thoughts." Francis said, as B.J. drew himself a cup of coffee.


"Soon." The Father promised and then B.J. sat down.

"Evening, folks."

"Evening, B.J." Father Mulchay said. "Hawkeye told me you were writing to your wife. How is she?"

"She's fine. Erin had a bit of an ear infection but seems to be better now. Thanks for asking Father."

"Of course."

"Anybody know what the movie is tonight?" Hawk asked, sliding his foot slowly up and down the Father's calf, watching a small smile form on the man's face.

"Something about trench foot I think." B.J. said, tucking into his green beans.

"Sounds informative." Mulcahy caught Hawk's eye briefly.

"Especially for us here in the trenches." Hawkeye slopped up some gravy with his biscuit, not stopping his slow assault on the other man’s leg. Footsies. He felt like he was in high school again.

"Be sure to change your socks." B.J. said and they all laughed.

Chapter Text

"What was he thinking?" Hawkeye ripped the door to his tent open.

"Calm down Hawk." BJ followed him, but at a distance.

"He could have died! He could be dead right now. Killed. A sniper. Or captured." Hawk stomped angrily around the Swamp.

"Radar too." B.J. added, softly laying a hand on Hawkeye's forearm. Hawk came to a halt.

"Yes. Of course." Hawkeye sat down on his cot, legs heavy. "But he was supposed to go. The Father wasn't. He's supposed to stay here. Where it's safe."

"They'll be back any minute. Safe and sound." B.J said. He had never seen Hawk like this.

"Didn't he realize he would scare me? How I would feel?" Hawk stood again, as if unable to sit. "Goddammit!" Suddenly there was a flurry of horn honks from outside.

"Should be them." B.J. said. Hawk's eyes lit up in relief.

"Let's go!" Hawkeye burst through the door, Hunnicutt at his heels, wondering about the me.


Of course it was them. Klinger and the Father carried the patient into pre-op and Radar ran to get Margret. They operated. By the time they had settled the patient in post op, B.J. looked up to realize Hawk and the Father were gone. He looked back through the operating room and there was a light on in pre-op. As he made his way towards the door he heard voices. When he looked through the window, the surgeon and the priest were too preoccupied to notice him. Hawk had his arms full of the other man, tears pouring down his face.

"What were you doing? What were you doing?" He asked, sobbing.

"Hawkeye, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking." He rubbed small circles on his back.

"You could have died. Darling why?"

"That patient made me feel useless. And I was just so angry. I had to go."

"Useless?" Hawkeye pulled back to look at the other man. "Never."

"I had to see the front." The Father said.

"Isn't it enough that I need you? Do you not know how much I need you?"

"Of course I know. I need you just as much. I just never thought of it that way." Mulcahy cupped Hawkeye's face and wiped the other man’s cheeks with his thumbs.

"You didn't think!" Hawk gripped the man's hands and squeezed. "This is still a war. I just found you. How can I lose you now?"

"We found each other. I'm sorry, do you forgive me?"

"Please, don't do anything so dumb again." Hawkeye brought their lips together gently.

"I'm not going anywhere." The Father whispered against him.

B.J. slipped out.


Hawkeye came back to the Swamp awhile later. B.J. looked up from his book to watch him. The man seemed fine. He crossed to the still and poured a drink.

"Feeling better?" B.J. asked.

"As good as I ever get." Hawk toasted the other man.

"And how's the Father?"

"How should I know?"

"I saw you. In pre-op. With him." B.J. kept his face neutral. Hawkeye froze with the glass halfway to his lips. Long after any kind of excuse or explanation was possible he started back up again. He drained the glass.

"Yeah? Well. So what." Hawkeye poured another drink and drained that as well. "You got something to say about it? Going to call me a pervert?" He turned and glared at him.

"I just want to say, that I won't say anything. And that I'm just glad your happy." B.J. turned his eyes back to his book.

"Thank you." Hawkeye said softly.


"Hawkeye!" Father Mulcahy fisted the doctor’s hair, as the man swallowed his cock.

They were pushed up into a corner of the supply tent. The night had been long and Hawkeye needed this. Needed the light in Francis's eyes.

"Say my name, baby, say it." Hawk licked up the underside of his lover's cock.

"Ungh, more Hawkeye, please!" The priest tried to stifle his cries behind his hand. Hawk just smiled. A small bead of precum beaded up on the tip and he licked it off.

"Anything." Hawk ran his tongue around the head. He swallowed him down inch by inch. Then he wrapped his hand around the base and really started to go to work.
He squeezed his lips and pumped, working them both together. Francis couldn't help himself, and started to pump his hips. Fucking the doctor’s face.

"I'm. I'm. So. Hawk!" He tried to pull back, but Hawkeye wrapped his arm around the man's waist. He cried out into his hand and came. Salty and delicious. Hawkeye milked each spurt and drank it down.

"You taste better every time."

"That was wonderful." Francis pulled Hawk up and kissed him.


“I’m sorry I let this happen.” Hawkeye massaged the Father’s foot gently.

“I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away.” Francis was leaned back in his chair, head propped up on one hand.

“Well, at least it isn’t broken.” He had taken X-rays, and the foot looked fine.

“That does feel nice.” Mulcahy murmed.

“It’s my way of apologizing to you.” He worked the pad of the Father’s foot.

“As long as you’ve made up with Radar.” Francis said.

“It won’t be the same. But we’ll be okay.” Hawkeye said, not stopping his ministrations.


“Yes darling?”

“Can you do my other foot too?” Francis asked. Hawkeye laughed, and took up the Father’s other foot.


"Do you know what it's like, to give your heart to somebody?"

Hawkeye wanted to tell her yes. That he did know. That he would look up sometimes, in surgery, or in the mess tent, or even just across the compound, and see Francis, and feel his heart tighten a little in his chest. He would watch the other man, who never seemed to feel his eyes on him, and he felt something deep down. Something in his stomach that made his throat dry up.

He wanted to tell her that she didn't have the moratorium on suffering. That at least when Donald came to the 4077, he could hold his wife in his arms and kiss her. That sometimes all he wanted to do was reach across the mess table and take Francis's hand. That the 12 inches of wood between them would be a gap they may never close. That his fingers burned with the desire, and it was so foolish that he couldn't even tell Francis.

He wanted to tell her yes. That he did know. About all the joy and all the pain. That he knew, and that she never could.


There was a knock on his door. He knew who it was.

"Come in." Francis capped his pen, and turned towards the door. Hawkeye swung the door open. Face destroyed.


"Is this about Major Holluihan?" The Father clasped his hands together. The surgeon started a little. Dropped his head.


"I forgive you."

"What? Francis."

"No. You don't need to say anything. You don't need to explain or try and justify it. I can't imagine what it was like out there among the enemy. Are you okay?"

"I was absolutely terrified."

"Oh dear." Francis cupped Hawk's face. "I thank the Lord you came back. I thank the Lord that your time with Margaret let you get through it."

"I'm so sorry. I betrayed you."

"And I said I forgive you. Come to bed." Francis held out his hand. The Doctor took it.


"Do you never want to reciprocate?" Francis asked him one night.

They had just finished a long, low, luxurious session. The priest had teased Hawk for so long with his fingers, he almost lost his mind. Only when he was begging and writhing beneath him did the other man replace his fingers with his cock. But that hadn't been the end of it. He proceeded to take him apart with his dick as well. Thrusting slowly, rubbing his prostate with each slow languid thrust. When Hawkeye couldn't form any coherent words, Francis finally sped up. Finally wrapped his delicate hand around the surgeons cock. Stroking him in time to his own thrusts until they both came.

"You want me too?" Hawkeye said. Francis was on top of him, head pillowed on the surgeons chest. They had been to exhausted to really move anywhere after what they had just done.

"I was just wondering is all." Francis said.

"Well, I mean. I haven't thought about it since that first night we were together." Hawkeye rubbed small circles on the priests back. "I used to think about it a lot before then."

"Oh really?" Francis smiled against the surgeon's skin.

"Of course." Hawkeye laughed softly. "I used to think about you during my alone time."

"And you don't anymore?" He turned his head to look up at him.

"I didn't say that. I just think about other things. Not about who will be on top and who will be on bottom." He brought his hand up and ran his hand through the priests hair.

"What do you think about?" The other man's voice was small.

"Before, I used to stroke my dick in the shower and think about how good it would feel to touch you. I used to imagine all the different ways we could be together."

Hawkeye smiled. "Now I just think about you. Your laugh. Your eyes. Your smile. The way your face looks when you cum. The way your hands feel when they're gripping my hips. How your fingers feel intertwined with mine. Lots of things."

"Oh, Hawk." His voice was low and choked.

"It was simple. I can go for either. I just waited for you to express a preference."

"So do you want to, well, I don't," the priest trailed off.

"Do I want to be inside you? Make love to you like you do to me?" Hawkeye asked.

"Yes, that."

"It really comes down to if you want that."

"I love what we do now." Francis said.

"Then we will keep doing that. I'm happy. I don't want to change a thing. If you change your mind we can talk about it then." Neither man spoke for several minutes.

"Do you think about me often?" Francis's voice was low again.

"All the time."


B.J. was in a sour mood when Hawkeye rustled him into the Officer’s Club. Francis played the piano and listened on and off.

“I need a baritone over here.” Francis called to the pair, hoping they would both come over and he could cheer B.J. up.

“Come on, we need another Ink Spot.” Hawk said to B.J. but the man just waved him off. Francis knew he shouldn’t use B.J.’s pain as an opportunity to express his feelings for Hawkeye, but he got so few chances to do so in public.

“Come on. What’s it going to be Father?” Hawk plopped down next to the man, sharing his bench, pressing their legs together.

“Button Up Your Overcoat.”

“Fine. Key of L.” Hawk leaned on the piano, trying to wave B.J. over.

“Button up your overcoat, when the wind blows free,” They sang together, looking at each other. Francis couldn’t help but smile at the warmth in his lover’s eyes. “Take good care of yourself, you belong to me,” Francis’s heart was full to bursting.

“Be careful crossing streets, ooh ooh, come on Beej, sing! Don’t eat meats, ooh ooh, cut out sweets ooh ooh, you’ll get a pain and ruin your tum tum!” They sang together as long as they could, until B.J. got fed up.

“Bartender!” B.J. banged his glass on the counter.

“Take five Pops.” Hawkeye said, getting up.

Francis was disappointed and couldn’t help frowning. Oh well, fun while it lasted.


“For an Irishman, red is not your color Francis.” Hawkeye was drunk, leaning against a post in the mess tent, talking to the Father, also drunk.

“Now, now, now.” He said, and hiccuped. “I’m Father in the mess tent.”

“But that red choker you have on.” Hawkeye continued, seeming not to have heard.

“Oh? This?” He reached a hand to his throat.

“It makes me want to bite and lick and suck.”

“Hawkeye!” He admonished gently. “There are other people here!” He felt his face heat up.

“Don’t tell me that’s not what you wanted?” He grinned wildly.

“In private please.” He tried not to smile in return and couldn’t help himself. This was what he had wanted after all.


Hawkeye wasn't the biggest fan of doing those interviews. But it helped the unit. And all his family back home loved it. The problem was it always left everyone in a flat mood.

He flipped through an old medical journal trying to kill time till dinner. B.J. strolled into the swamp, hands tucked into his pockets. A grin on his face.

"What's with you?" Hawk threw the magazine into a pile.

"I just happened to be strolling by the mess tent during the Father's interview."

"Oh congratulations, I'll get you a medal."

"I heard a little something that I thought might interest you."

"I wait on baited breath." Hawkeye said, pretending not to be interested.

"They asked all of us what we missed about home." B.J. sat down with a flop. "Our leyline with God said he missed having a proper church."

"Great! I'll order him one from Sears and Roebuck." Hawk crossed his arms, staring at the other man.

"He specifically said he's very partial to stained glass."

And that really got Hawk's attention.


He spoke to some of their regular traders and started scrounging up parts. It was an easy enough piece to throw money at and he could have commissioned someone to build it, but this was the first real gift he would ever be giving Francis. It would feel like cheating to have someone else make it.

He wished he had some examples of stained glass windows, so he wouldn't feel like such a fool. Should it have a pattern? Or be religious or something like that?
Hawk spent the time waiting for the pieces to come in, collecting bits and pieces of glass. Nothing seemed to have any color.

When he finally had all the pieces, he was unsure of where to start. It wasn't until a few weeks later, that the Father himself gave him the idea.

They were walking hand in hand through a field outside the orphanage. It had gone from very, very late to very, very early. The sun was rising over the hills and the Father commented on how he wanted to capture and hold this moment for as long as he could. That was all Hawk needed to hear. It took a few more weeks of crimping together bits of free time to actually finish the project.

B.J. declared it stunning.

He planned a special evening with Francis. Smuggled in a great bottle of wine, paid Rosie an indecent sum of money to make something actually edible. He didn't tell Francis about his plans.

He and B.J. snuck into Francis's tent while the man was out at the orphanage. They set up a little card table they had borrowed from supply. Decked it out with a nice white cloth, candles, and wine glasses. B.J. went to Rosie's to collect dinner and Haweye waited. He was so nervous he couldn't sit down. He should have been back by now, but there was no sign of him. B.J. came back with a steaming basket covered with a towel.

"No sign of him?" He set down his burden.

"No, and it's almost full dark. That makes me nervous." Hawkeye paced around the small space.

"Want to go scrounge up a jeep?"

"And do what? Run after him like a scared baby?" He ran a hand through his hair.

"Your worried about someone you care for. That's nothing to be ashamed of." B.J. sat down at the table.

"He's a grown man. He's only 20 minutes late. I shouldn't worry like this." Hawkeye sat down across from B.J.

"This is Korea, not Crabapple Cove. There's reason to worry."

"Alright, okay, I'm going to look for him." Hawk popped out of his seat. Just then the door opened.

"Look for who?" Francis asked stepping through the door. He had a bag over one shoulder and was in that tight black t-shirt he wore. The strap of the bag cut across his toned chest and with the shirt made one pretty picture. He had a smear of dirt across one cheek and his hair was standing up in patches.

"You, you jerk." He stepped forward gently wiped at the dirt. "What happened to you?"

"My jeep broke down. I had to walk in the dark. I'm afraid I tripped once or twice." He took the hand wiping at his cheek in his own and squeezed.

“I'm going to take my leave gentlemen." B.J. mock bowed and then squeezed by them out the door.

“What’s all this then?” Francis took off his bag and the flex of the man’s muscles momentarily distracted Hawk.

“Dinner.” Hawk licked his lips. “Wanted to do something special for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” He stepped forward and lifted the towel covering the food. “Although that does smell amazing.”

“You deserve something special. You are special.” The surgeon stepped forward and pulled out a chair. “Darling.”

“But I must look a mess.” Francis sat.

“Hush, you’re gorgeous.” Hawkeye said, and started to serve up dinner.


“So, what’s this really all about?” Francis asked after several helpings and several glasses of wine.

“Who says it has to be about anything?”


“You always could see right through me.” Hawkeye stood and went to pull the cloth wrapped package from under the bed. “I made something for you.”

“What’s this?” The Father took the offered package and unwrapped it.

“Do you like it? I know its not the best looking thing, but…” Hawkeye started, eyes on his feet.

“It’s amazing.” Francis said, voice choked and hoarse. Hawkeye looked up at him and saw he was crying.

“Oh hey now, what’s wrong?” He dropped to one knee in front of the priest.

“Nothing, it’s just so beautiful. It’s from that moment we had in the field right?” Francis held the picture up by its crude wooden frame. It was a sun rising over the hills.

The hardest thing to find had been colored glass, so Hawk had had to lightly paint on clear glass to get the colors right. He managed to get some browns and greens for the field, and one brilliant piece of yellow for the sun.

“I thought maybe you could hang it in the mess tent on Sundays.” Hawk reached up and wiped away Francis’s tears.

“Like a real church.” Francis said, crying harder.

“I didn’t think it would make you upset.” The surgeon cupped the other man’s face.

“I’m not upset, this is just, the best thing anyone has ever given me.”

“These are happy tears?”

“Tears of joy, yes.” He put down the windowpane on the table, and leaned over to kiss Hawkeye. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Stop crying then won’t you, it’s hurting my heart.” Hawkeye whispered against his lips.

“You’re are just the best man. How did I get so lucky?” Francis kissed him again, slipping his hand up and around to cup the back of the surgeon’s neck.

“We both got lucky. Imagine all the things that had to go right for us to come together.”

“I thank the Lord for every moment we have,” Francis stood and offered his hand to help him stand. “Come to bed.”

“Only waiting to be asked.”


“If I may be so bold B.J. you’re lying to the wrong person.” Francis said, a smirk on his lips. He knew about the bathtub alright. He and Hawkeye had spent almost an hour last night fantasizing about what it would be like to truly be alone with it. Just the two of them and that glorious tub. Hawk had joked that the water wouldn’t stay cool very long and they had shared a good laugh.


After the day he had, losing his coat, stealing the truck, and delivering the Sodium Pentathol, all he wanted was to curl up under his flimsy army blanket. He was shivering all over and had to try to get warm. As he pushed open the door to his tent, he saw a wrapped package lying on his bed with a note.


Can’t stay to warm you up myself. So, I thought I’d leave the next best thing. I borrowed it from our beloved Colonel without really asking, so return at your own risk. Also, something to help you out later, when you have to brave the Korean winds again.


He unwrapped the bundle, which turned out to be made from a winter jacket. It looked a little too big, and had a rip up one shoulder, but that was easily mended and it was clean. The real treat was inside the jacket. A hot water bottle. Still warm somehow. His heart sped up in his chest as he looked at it. Feeling something that it was hard for him to put his finger on.


It was very, very early on Boxing Day. Francis opened the door to the darkened mess tent very quietly. Hawkeye was standing in the shadows next to the tree, just visible in the low light. He crossed to him, and was gathered up in a hug.

“Merry belated Christmas darling.” Hawkeye kissed the top of his head.

“How on earth did you get them all together like that?” The song had been beautifully touching.

“All I did was tell them it was for you. No one even fought me. You make such an impression on the people here.” Hawkeye pulled him back to look at him. “I don’t know if it ever gets through when I tell you this, so I’ll tell you a million times more. You are good, you are useful, you are needed.” He sealed the last one with a kiss.

“Hawkeye,” He started and then stopped, unable to sort himself out. He was feeling too much. “Merry Christmas.” It was a cheap finish, and Hawkeye blinked a few times, as if knowing there should have been more.

“Never forget, we need you here. I need you.” He said, and it was Francis’s turn to kiss him.

“I’ll try not to again.”


Dear Sis,

I hope everything is going well with the team, and that you are doing well. Thank you again for your last letter.

I’m so excited for you to meet the family of my friends here. It’s so very nice to have friends. There’s one in particular I’d like you to talk with, Daniel Pierce. He’s the father of Hawkeye, who I know I’ve mentioned to you before. He’s one of the best people I know, and I’d love the two of you to chat. Hawkeye’s father is very important to him, and Hawkeye means a great deal to me.

You inquired as to why I seem so different these days, well, I seem to be happier than I’ve been in a long time.

Looking forward to party stories my dear.



Francis opened his tent to find Hawkeye asleep in his bed. He had taken off his boots, and was curled up on top in his clothes. He put down the stack of books he was carrying, and went to stand over him.

"Oh dear, you must have had a long day." Francis smoothed back the hair from Hawk's head. The sleeping man’s features softened but he didn't wake. He picked up a chair, trying to be very quiet, and placed it near his bed. He sat down and undid his boots, grabbed a book and propped his feet up on the bed to read. He dozed off himself. The two slept on like that till the blare of incoming wounded woke them.


It was late and the mess tent was mostly dark. He watched the taller man heft the pot up and pour it down into the urn. It smelled wonderful. After screwing the top back in and poured two mugs, bringing them over.

“Even if this is lousy, don’t tell me.” Hawkeye said, sliding into the seat across from Francis.

“Surely you’ve made coffee before.” He said, taking his cup.

“Yeah, but not a whole camp’s worth.”

“True.” Francis blew on it, and took a sip. “Not bad Hawkeye.”

“Let’s hope it’s enough to prop our eyelids up, we still have work to do.” He closed his eyes and took his own sip. Francis took a spare moment to take in Hawkeye’s face. After the day him and B.J. had had, getting back here from the 8063, it was amazing he was still awake.

“Hawkeye, you should get some rest.” He could see the bags under the surgeon’s eyes.

“And leave you to have all the fun? Hell no.” He opened his eyes again, smiling without humor.

“I must admit, I do love a good days work.” He set he cup down, Hawkeye following suit.

“Not a secret hun.” Hawkeye chuckled. It was nice to be alone in a public place.

“Hawkeye,” He started watching the surgeon’s fingers twitch.

“Oh fuck it.” He slid his free left hand across the table and grasped Francis’s right hand.

“Anyone could just walk in right now you know.” But he didn’t pull away. It felt wonderful.

“Who? Beej? Or Charles, Margaret, maybe the Colonel? None of them matter, not really, not anymore. Everyone else is sick as a dog.” Hawkeye said taking a sip of his coffee.

“I can’t stop anyhow. Feels too nice.” He ran his thumb over the surgeon’s knuckles, causing him to sigh. It sounded like pure relief.

“I think about doing this all the time.” He squeezed the Father’s hand. “We’ll be sitting here, eating, talking. Tons of people around. You’ll laugh at some stupid thing I say, and I just. Want to do this so bad.”

“Hawkeye,” He started again, biting his lip. He was really going to say it this time. Suddenly Hawk’s eyes flicked up but he didn’t withdraw his hand. Francis turned to see B.J.

“Slackers.” He said amicably, strolling over to get his own coffee cup.

“I was just being told off by Francis here. He thinks I should go to bed.” Hawkeye stroked his thumb over the Father’s knuckles this time.

“Never. Can’t miss the fun of everyone puking on everything. Sanest illness in months.” He sat down next to the priest. “That’s not the sanest idea however.” He gestured at their clasped hands.

“Oh hush up.” Francis said, causing Hawkeye to burst out laughing.

“I really am a bad influence on you!” He said through giggles.

“I think it goes both ways.” Beej said, laughing himself.

Whatever Francis was going to say spun away. The trio chatted and joked, finished their coffee and got back to work.


"I want to do it." Hawkeye stayed afterwards in Potter’s office. The rest of the crew had filed out.

"Do what Pierce?" Potter poured himself a short knock of whiskey.

"When we promote the Father at Rosie's. I know we’re supposed to wait till his come in, but I can just give him mine." He stood with his hands on the Colonel's desk.

"I guess that would be fine." The Colonel took a short sip.

"Good. Then leave it to me." Hawkeye turned and walked off, leaving the Colonel to wonder about why it mattered so much.


"You know," Hawkeye said, stroking Francis's arm lightly with his fingertips. They were laying together, cooling down.

"Know what?" Francis prompted when the surgeon didn't continue.

"Never mind, it's dumb." He sounded uncharacteristically shy.

"You ninny. Tell me."

"I was thinking about us," He said, softly. "About how we walk around this camp pretending not to be, pretending not to be intimate."

"It can't really be any other way." The Father said.

"I know that. I do." He shifted a little to kiss the top of Francis's head. "It's just some days I feel like I'm wearing a-a costume. That I can't shed."

"I can't make it any easier, I'm afraid." Francis said.

"I wouldn't change you for the whole world," Hawkeye said. "I just, keep thinking about holding you close in public. Once. Maybe."


After that night, Francis was on the lookout for any opportunity to do just that. To give Hawkeye what he needed. Because the man had given him so much. So, when B.J. came to tell him he was throwing a party for Hawk's birthday he already had a plan.

"I think it should be a masquerade party." He said while they bickered about sandwiches and themes. B.J. turned to look at him.

"Yeah, ok, a costume party, that's the ticket Father." He stood. "That's what we'll do."

"A day isn't enough time to get costumes together!" Margaret protested.

"It has to be tomorrow, that's Hawkeye's birthday." Klinger said.

"I suppose." Francis knew fair well it wasn't Hawkeye's birthday and it didn't matter a bit. "Let's put out the word. There's more then enough time to get costumes together. We'll make masks out of plaster." B.J. clapped the Father on the back.


But, as usual, the war always has other plans. Hawkeye ended up on the line with Dr. Boreli, coming back with a sprained wrist. Francis and B.J. talked with the others and convinced them to throw the party anyway, and they gave themselves a week to let the surgeon settle. They made masks and smuggled in some very quality scotch. B.J. made copious amount of gin for a punch, hiding it from Hawkeye.


The night of, Francis stood in front of his mirror, smoothing his hands over his outfit. Looking at himself and hoping this wasn't a bad decision. There wasn't any hope of disguising themselves too much, the camp was too close knit. But this would be different.

"Holy moly, Father." B.J. stopped pouring punch when Francis walked into the mess tent. The tall surgeon was dressed like a chicken. With cotton feathers and a big orange beak stuck to his mask.

Francis was dressed as a business girl. The dress was deep red, cocktail length with a button up top. The skirt had a tulle overlay with small patterned squares. A wide black leather belt tied the whole outfit together. He had borrowed a pair of smart black pumps and gloves from Klinger, and a pair or sheer black hoes from Nurse Kelley. He had painted his mask red. He took a slow step forward, trying not to wobble.

"Do I look alright?" He asked, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Will Hawkeye like it?"

"His eyes are going to pop right out of his skull." B.J. grinned.

"That's what I want. What can I do to help?" And the doctor put him to work.


As he helped Margaret (dressed as a pilot) hang a Happy Birthday sign, he reflected on what he really wanted. He wanted Hawkeye to do what he always did. Get carried away. He was betting on Hawkeye getting flirty and fired up because of the unusual costume. That he would make a dirty joke that Francis could be mock offended by. And that Hawk would clamp him in his arms and dance him in a circle and they could have one moment together. Just one.


Hawkeye was supposed to come in for coffee after his shift in post-op. They all waited in the dark for him, with cake and presents. Klinger had raided his collection as well, dressed as gypsy. Charles had chosen a more traditional get-up, a tux with a cape, his mask jet black. It was the only way he would agree to come. Colonel Potter was a cowboy, spurs and all. The Father's feet were starting to hurt.


B.J. finally shushed them all, and Hawkeye came through the door wearing his Groucho Marx glasses and hat. So much blood rushed to Francis's ears, that he barely heard them all shouting surprise.

"You fink, you knew." B.J. said, going over to his best friend.

"No one in this place is subtle. I even had time to dress up." He wiggled his eyebrows. “Where's the Father? I bet he helped too." B.J. could only hook one thumb in Francis's direction, laughing. Hawkeye swung around and caught his first look at Francis and his costume. His eyes widened, and his jaw fell just a little. He pushed through the crowd to where Francis stood.

"You're new in town, but you remind me of someone I know." He took off the glasses. His voice was low, and his pupils were all blown out.

"I know lots of people, after all, I worked my way through divinity school as a b-girl." Francis said covering his smile with a folding fan.

"You're getting me all hot under the collar." Hawkeye was playing it exactly right. Colonel Potter walked over.

"Padre, may I say, that is some dress." He laughed and took a cup of punch.

"Why, thank you Colonel." Francis smiled in what he hoped was a flirty way. "Want to buy me a drink?"

"Hey now, I saw you first." Pierce stepped in between the two. "You at least owe me a dance before you find a new Joe."

"You haven't even offered." He hit Hawkeye lightly with his folding fan.

"Ok, let me buy you a drink then." He turned around and threw down his glasses, snatching a cup of punch off the table behind them.

"Now, now. Don't fight." Francis laughed.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again, you're a bad influence on this man." Colonel Potter said, shaking his head and walking away.

"Francis, what on earth are you wearing?" Hawkeye asked, voice low.

“Just a little something I threw together." Francis took the cup of punch.

"I thought it would make you laugh. Doesn't matter. Dance with me." The record player in the corner started playing. Hawkeye licked his lips.

"We can't, that’s too much, this is just a joke." He never thought Hawkeye would take it this far. Francis took a sip from his cup and coughed a little. Strong.

"Of course. That's why we can do it. I'm a big joker. You're wearing that dress." The surgeon gripped Francis's hand, crushing the folding fan lightly. "Of course we would dance. I'd make you."

"Hawkeye-" He set down his cup.

"Please." He squeezed. "I'll beg if you need me too."

"You don't have to beg. But we have to make it look good."

"Okay. Smart." He stood up straighter and made his voice carry. "Come on honey. Just one little spin."

"I'm not that easy Joe." Francis slapped him lightly on the shoulder with his fan.

"Half a spin then."

"Fine, but you better keep your hands where I can see them." Francis snapped his folding closed and let it dangle from the wrist strap. He presented his hand daintily. Hawkeye took and laid a kiss on it like a true gentleman.

"I can promise to try." He spun the priest into his arms. They clasped their left hands together, Francis laid his right hand on Hawkeye's shoulder, while Hawk put his hand on Francis's lower back.

"Quite a looker you have there Pierce." Margaret said, from where she was dancing demurely with Charles.

"I saw him first." Hawkeye pulled him closer.

"What he's doing with you is beyond me." Charles said, swirling her away.

"Don't you mean she?" Francis asked. "I'm in a dress after all."

"But your still you." The taller man said, looking down, confused.

"I thought we were doing a bit."

"I want you to be you here. In my arms." Hawkeye slipped his hand lower on the small of Francis's back.

"Don't be fresh now." The priest said, wiggling his hips.

"Oh, don't do that." The doctor groaned.

"Tit for tat Doctor." The smile he served up was wicked.

"You're driving me out of my mind."

"That was sort of the plan."

"It's working." He pulled him closer, slotting there bodies together.

"Hawkeye, don't get carried away." Francis tightened his grip.

"I can't help myself." He straightened up. “Stick with me honey, I’ll treat you right. Me number one Joe.”

“I shouldn’t hang onto you all night.” Francis gripped Hawk’s shoulder as the taller man swung him around.

“Who says?” Hawkeye’s smile was wide, and wild. “Now hit me with your fan.”

“What? Why?”

“Do it, and tell me I didn’t pay enough to be fresh.”

“Oh,” Francis said, catching on. “Now, now!” He pulled his hand free and took up his fan, whacking Hawk on the hand.


“You didn’t pay me enough to be so fresh.” He turned and walked away, leaving Hawkeye staring after him.


All night they played cat and mouse. It was a very thin line to tread. Not spending too much time together, just enough to satisfy Hawkeye’s usual joking, and Mulcahy’s good spirit. The party had turned out to be more of a costume party than a masquerade ball. Instead of an unmasking, they held a costume contest. Slightly inebriated, Hawkeye stumbled up on stage to a volley of cheers.

“Alright, alright!” He took a crazy bow. “In honor of my birthday, and the wonderful party you all threw me. Let’s see who won best in show. B.J. the envelope.” B.J., equally tipsy, handed him a folded sheet of paper, over exaggerating his movements in a ludicrous bow.

“The winner of the $50 cash prize, for best costume.” He opened the paper with a flourish. “Not unexpected, our very own Francis Mulcahy!” Wild cheers broke out as he made his way towards stage. It did not escape his notice that the surgeon left off his title.

“Now, I didn’t think I made that much of an impression.” He held his hand out to Hawkeye, playing the roll he had cast himself into, but genuinely thrilled to be holding his hand in public, in front of everyone.

“Oh doll, you sure did!” Hawkeye wrapped his arms around the smaller man and lifting, spun him around, laughing. All of Mulcahy’s focus narrowed down to the space between his partner’s arms. He was laughing down at him, looking deliriously happy. It was over too soon.

“I’m going to give my money to the orphanage!” He called, and the crowd cheered again.

“That’s our Father Mulcahy.” Potter said, shaking his head and chuckling in his usual way. Just like that, he was the Father again, as nice as it was being Francis for awhile.

“For my biggest, fan.” Mulcahy paused at the word, and handed his folded fan over to Hawkeye. Hawkeye took it and snapped it open, covering his face coquettishly.


A few hours later, after the party had broken up, Francis found himself back in his tent. His ensemble had taken a bit of work to put together, and he was finding it hard to take off. He had already taken off his shoes, stockings and gloves. There was a gentle rapping on his tent door.

“Just a moment.” He stopped fiddling with the clasp on his belt and opened the door to reveal a very disheveled Hawkeye.

“Come here often?” He said, sliding through the door.

“What an odd choice of words.”

“You’re still wearing that dress. It makes it hard to think.” Hawkeye produced the folding fan.

“That’s for you.”

“I never plan on giving it back, it’s just my reason for coming over. A very drunk me insisted.” He laid it shut on the Father’s bedside table.

“That explains why you seem so ruffled up. But you aren’t drunk.” He started to attempt to unclip his belt. The surgeon moved his hands to the side and worked the belt himself.

“I had a few drinks, but it was for show. I wanted to remember every second of you in this dress.” The belt slipped down around his hips and Hawk let it fall to the floor.

“You liked it that much?” He turned his eyes up to the surgeon’s. Filled with light and warmth and something feral.

“It was a great fake birthday gift.” The rough fabric of the dress slipped around his stomach as Hawkeye pulled him close for a kiss.

“Was it enough? To shed your mask for at least one night.” Mulcahy melted against him.

“It was wonderfully brilliant. You’re so clever.” He kissed him again. “Francis, I love you.”

“I, I-” Francis stuttered. The moment spun out.

“I know., I know. You’re a priest. And your first duty is to God, and to love God. And I really shouldn’t have said anything, but I do. I love you. It was all I could think all night.” Hawkeye squeezed. “I’d hoped, even with all of that. That you love me too.”

“Oh Hawkeye, I do. I love you so much.” He kissed him. “I just never thought you could feel the same.”

“How could I not? You’re beautiful and brilliant, and clever. So selfless and delightful to be around. You do things like this for me, because you know that I’m going crazy for a chance to show everyone just a little bit of how I feel about you. Which only drives me crazy because I love you so much.”

“Oh my, Hawkeye. Help me out of my dress please?” He turned in the surgeon’s arms, exposing the long zipper down the back.

“Of course.” He zipped it down, slowly.


“You’re one to talk!” He kissed the side of the priest’s neck. He made a low keening sound. Hawk slipped the dress down over the shorter man’s shoulders, and let it fall to the ground with the belt. He groaned, as Francis was naked under the dress.

“That was only partly the point.” He turned and pressed against the surgeon. “Must get naked.” Hawkeye said, shedding his jacket and undershirt, fumbling out of his pants and boots.

“Hawkeye, the whole evening has been rather thrilling,” Francis started, but Hawkeye interrupted him.

“Like one big long foreplay session. I know. Don’t waste anytime.” Hawkeye simply got on his hands and knees on the bed.

Francis took the time to appreciate the sight as he kneeled behind him. So gorgeous. He slicked his fingers in Vaseline, and worked Hawkeye open just a little, before coating his own dick.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Please, don’t make me wait any longer.” Hawkeye’s was so thick with arousal, that it made Francis even harder, if that was possible. He slotted up the head of cock and pushed in.

“Hawkeye, yes. Oh!” He cried out, softly, burying himself all the way inside. The surgeon only moaned, hiding his face in a pillow. He started up an agonizing pace. Stroking past his love’s prostrate only every third or fourth thrust, and not quite fast enough to make anything else happen. He kept on till Hawkeye was gasping and panting beneath him.

“Please, just, oh please!” Hawkeye moaned into his pillow. Francis sped up, and for a moment every stroke hit his lover perfectly. Then he pulled out, causing the taller man to collapse.

“What are you doing?”

“On your back.” The blond helped him shift around on the bed, until he was flat on his back.

“I told you I loved you for the first time today. Something I never would have had the courage to do alone. I want to look in your eyes when I make you cum.” He slid himself home with that statement.

“I love you, Francis.” Hawkeye said, shifting his hips up to position himself better.

“I love you, Ben.” He didn’t use Hawk’s given name that often. But this felt right.

Still filling his lover up completely, he bent at the waist and kissed him for a long moment. Then he started fucking him in earnest. Every stroke hit its mark, and Hawkeye was making broken moaning sounds. Francis was always amazed at this feeling, how good it felt to be wrapped up in Hawkeye. He wrapped one hand around Hawkeye’s cock, and stroked it once, twice and then the taller man was cumming. He threw a hand to his mouth and covered it, stifling his voice. Francis could feel himself pushing over the edge.

“Love you, love you Hawkeye.” He stuttered, pushing deep and cumming.

After cleaning up, Hawkeye put all his clothes back on.

“How long do you think I can stay here with the very drunk excuse?” He asked. Francis was slipping into some pajamas.

“Not very long, I imagine. I am a priest after all.” He smiled. “I better stumble my way back to the Swamp then.” He pulled Francis to him.

“I’m so very lucky, in this place, to be here with you.”

“Don’t forget your folding fan.” Francis ran his hands up and down the surgeon’s arms, still smiling.

“Never! I’ll treasure it always.” He leaned down and kissed the shorter man. “I really do love you.”

“I love you too, Hawkeye.”


Dear Dad,

Pierce men have the worst luck. I’m stuck here. And I’m in love. Gorgeous, funny, generous, kind. Loving. Doesn’t even begin to describe him.

I’m a walking disaster, who drinks far too much, and can’t get out of my way long enough to take my foot out of my mouth.

And he loves me. It’s a miracle.

I can’t wait for you to meet him.

Your delighted son,



He took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger. He had spent months waiting for corn on the cob. And in one genius move from a cook he had missed out. His slice of home gone. Creamed corn. Again.

An arm snaked out and grabbed him, pulling him back into the shadow behind the post op. Francis yelped and thrashed, trying to get an elbow into the stomach of whoever had him.

"Calm down Francis, it's me." Pierce whispered into his ear.

"Hawkeye, what are you doing?" The Father tried to twist around to face him.

"Hold on. Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you." Hawkeye kept his voice low and right in the Father’s ear.

"Now, Hawkeye." He started.

"Indulge me." His breath was warm in the cusp of his ear.

"Fine." He shivered a little and closed his eyes.

"Good." Hawkeye let him go. He stepped back and turned the man around. There was the sound of a cloth being pulled.

"If this surprise is just you showing me your dick again, I've been surprised with that behind Post-op plenty of times." The Father crossed his arms.

"Baby, that's always a good surprise. But that's not it." The surgeon sounded amused. "Open your eyes."

When Francis opened his eyes, Hawkeye stood in front of him holding a metal bowl with two steaming ears of corn.

"Where on earth did you get these?" He took a step forward, placing a hand on the rim and looking in.

"I admit I shouldn't have, but I squirreled these away earlier. I had a very strong suspicion someone would mess this up for you. Even if they hadn't, hey we'd have extra corn."

"It looks so tasty!"

"I have some butter and salt for you here." He turned a little. On a packing crate there was a mess tray with butter pats on bread and salt. Hawkeye pressed the bowl into Francis's hands.

"For me? Aren't you going to have some?" Francis asked.

"I'm going to get all the pleasure I want just watching you." Hawkeye hopped up on another packing crate.

"You just want to watch?" The Father set down the bowl and sat down himself.

"More than anything." His look was nothing short of predatory.

Francis took his time enjoying his treat. By the time he finished Hawkeye was squirming in his seat. He started licking butter off the fingers of his hand one at time. The surgeon stepped off his perch, and moved towards the shorter man, catching him by the wrist. He brought the hand up to his mouth and ran his tongue around the tip of the Father’s index finger. The shorter man shuddered, but didn't move. Hawkeye took the finger into his mouth, sucking on it. He reached down with his other hand and palmed the Father through his pants. He shuddered again, stepping into the touch.


"Hush, it’s my turn," His voice was deep and rough. One by one he licked the Father’s fingers clean, tantalizingly slow. He didn't stop the relentless working of his hand either, stroking Francis fully hard.

"Please just a little more." Francis's voice cracked a little.

"Going to cum for me?" Hawkeye pulled Francis into the hollow of his shoulder, stifling his moans. He worked the other mans pants open, and freed the Fathers cock. He bucked into the ring of the surgeon’s hand.

"Do it. Cum baby." Francis moaned into Hawkeye's shoulder.

"Yes, please yes!" Francis came, splattering all over the ground in front of them.

"Happy 4th of July, love." Hawkeye said, wiping him off the dish towel and tucking him back up. Francis responded by kissing him.


“I’ll take over for a little while Major.” Francis said, after coming through the door to the VIP tent. Hawkeye looked relived to see him.

“If you’re sure Father.” She stood up. “I’m just going to run over to Post-op for a bit and check on Kelley.”

After she left, Francis sat down, scooping up the surgeon’s hand.

“What if I’m contagious?” He asked.

“I know, better than the rest, that you aren’t.” They sat together in silence awhile, not counting Hawkeye’s occasional sneeze.

“Look,” he said finally. “If something happens, if I die,” Francis held up his free hand.

“Hawkeye. You’ll be fine.” Francis’s heart sped up a little.

“But if I’m not,” Hawkeye said. “I need you to know, that, that. I love you. That I’m lucky you love me. I’m even lucky you want to be near me at all.” There were tears on his cheeks now.

“I love you, too.” He leaned down and kissed the man he loved, with all of his not inconsiderable heart. “You’re amazing. And you’re not going to die.”

“Aren’t you worried even a little bit? You make me be who I want to be, as a person. Francis. Do you know that?” Hawkeye swiped at his face.

“Yes, I’m worried. But God is here with you, and I have faith in him. I also know how tough you are. This isn’t how you’ll go out Hawkeye.” He squeezed his hand. “I’ve never heard you talk like this before.” Tears were beginning to prickle his own eyes.

“Well, it’s all true.” There was crunching on the gravel and the door opened, revealing Margaret.

“Everything ok?” She asked taking in the crying Doctor and their hands.

“Even an agnostic can use the comfort of a priest from time to time, Major.” Francis said, not letting Hawkeye go.

“Especially one as great as this. Thank you, Father.” Hawkeye pulled him close and kissed his hand, letting go. “I’m feeling, a bit better now.”

“Of course. I’ll let you to get some rest.” He rose to leave. “And don’t hesitate to ask for me again, if you think I can help at all.”

“Of course, Father.”


In the end Hawkeye was fine, as Francis knew he would be.


Hawkeye liked the way Francis looked in his full priestly garb of course, prim and professional. And that tight black t-shirt showed off his arm muscles in a great way too. He looked so wonderful in his class A’s. He didn’t even mind the low-key black turtle neck collar combo he wore most days, despite the fact it made him all that more aware of Francis’s connection to God. But Hawkeye’s favorite thing to see the other man in was simple army green.

The first time he had really seen it, after they had become lovers, he had met the other man coming out of his tent. He looked so different not clad all in black. The green brought out the soft blonde shine of his hair, which in turn made his eyes look even brighter. Francis hadn’t seen Hawkeye. He was shaking out his over-shirt, which had a big wet patch all down one side. He gave it the once over, as if trying to decide if he couldn’t just put it back on. He ducked back into his tent, and Hawkeye crossed to the entrance. He met the other man coming back out of his tent.

“Hawkeye?” Francis said startled, but had time for no more. The surgeon took him by his arm and was pushing him back into the tent.

“You look amazing.” He locked the door.

“I’m just in a t-shirt. I spilled water all over my other one, I’m afraid.” He blushed slightly, holding out his wet black t-shirt.

“No, no.” Hawkeye shook his head, taking the wet shirt and throwing it in the bed. “Some times I wish you could see what I see.” He pushed the shorter man up against his desk, and kissed him till they were both breathless.

“Hawkeye,” He panted, color high in his cheeks. They had pressed together and Hawk could feel him hard and heavy against his leg. “I would make love to you right now, if it wasn’t the middle of the day.” He kissed him again, softly.

“Oh, my.”

“You need to wear that more often.”


So, it became sort of a signal. Whenever Francis was in a mischievous sort of mood, he would put on that green t-shirt, the very sight of it driving Hawkeye crazy. That shirt led to more action than all the business girls down at Rosie’s could pull in, combined.


It was very early in the morning. They were curled up in Francis's tent. Hawkeye drew his hand up and down the other man's arm, just enjoying being here.

"Babe?" Hawkeye asked.

"Mmm?" Francis said, sounding sleepy.

"Can I tell you something?"


"I just wanted to tell you. Well, I mean.” The moment spun out. He couldn’t bring himself to say what he had been thinking. “I love you." Hawk finally said, voice low. Francis turned his head to look up.

"I love you as well. Is that all?”

"I just. Wanted to say it." Hawkeye leaned down and kissed the tip of the priest’s nose.


“So everything worked out alright.” Francis said, strolling into the open door of the Swamp.

“After no small measure of difficulty.” Hawkeye snapped the Polaroid open, and turned it back and forth in his hands.

“Have you given a thought to what you’ll do with that when you both go home?” He asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Nah, not really.” The Doctor raised the camera up and pointed in the the Father.

“No, don’t do that.” He laughed and ducked away.

“Oh come on, I may see you everyday. But it’d be nice to have a picture of you too.”

“Come now, don’t be silly.”

“I’m not being silly, I’m serious.” He stood and stepped over to the shorter man.

“Well. Maybe. Why don’t we take one together?” He bit his lip and turned his face up to Hawkeye.

“That’s why I love you. You’re smarter than me. How about we take two? One for me, one for you!” He picked up a long strand of string from Charles’s desk. “In fact, let’s take a page from Winchester’s book.”


“We prop the camera up on a box, tie this string to the shutter switch, and then we can take two photos together. Wouldn’t it be better to have a photo together?” He was grinning wide. That look he got when he wouldn’t be put off an idea.

“I must admit, it sounds lovely.”

“Good! You stand over there.” He pushed him over by the still. Then he ran around the room, turning on lights and moving them around.

“It’s bright outside already, Hawkeye.” The smile on his face was the one that he had when he was watching his lover completely wrapped up in something.
“This needs to be perfect.”

“My, you do get fired up.”

“I indeed do.” He went and tied up the switch and went to stand next to the Father. With one hand, he flattened at his hair. “Are you ready?”

“Sure, why not?” Francis took a cautious look around, and didn’t see anyone in the immediate area around the tent. He slipped his arm around the taller man’s waist.

“Naughty. Smile for the birdie.” They both turned towards the camera and Hawk pulled.

“I hope it turns out better than the first one you tried to take.” He unwound himself and went over to the camera.

“Don’t go away, we need the second one.” Hawkeye picked up the camera and yanked the strip.

“Should we wait to see if it turns out?”

“Nah, I swallowed my pride and asked Winchester for some help. Should be okay.” He stepped back to where they were standing before and made come here gestured with his hands. Mulcahy looked around again and stepped into Hawk’s arms.

“I’m glad we’re doing this.” He smiled broadly.

“Turn towards the lens, then you can kiss me.” They both turned towards the camera again, and he pulled.

“It’s too dangerous to kiss right now.” Mulcahy said, not letting go.

“Maybe.” It was his turn to look around. “Maybe not.” He drew him up and kissed him gently.

“Hawkeye.” He admonished him.

“You’re so damn cute.” He said, but stepped away from him nonetheless. He picked up the camera and yanked the second strip.

“How’d the first one come out?” He picked it up, expecting the worst. “Hey! This looks pretty good.”

“How about that, I told you I know what I’m doing.” They watched the second one come through. “Which one do you want?”

“Let’s see. I like you eyes in this one. But the smile you have in the first one.”

“If it’s all the same to you, can I have the second one?” Hawkeye said. “I love the way you’re looking at the camera.”

“Sounds perfect then.”

“Thank you for indulging me.”

“I must admit, I’m a little more excited than I should be to have this.” He slipped it into his pocket. “Something to remember you by, when the war is over.”

“Yeah.” Hawkeye’s face looked sad very briefly, then he turned away.


Hawkeye cried out, fisting his hands into the Father’s hair. Francis had gotten so much better at this since his first tentative tries. He slowly worked down the surgeon’s cock, running his tongue over the vein there.

"I could let you do this forever." Hawkeye moaned softly. The Father simply hummed in response, which made the man groan. He circled the base of Hawk’s dick, working the base with his hand. His touch wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t harsh either. He stroked and worked his mouth in conjunction, using his tongue to stroke the sensitive underside. The surgeon groaned.

“Please, just.” Hawkeye tried hard not to buck his hips and gag Francis. The shorter man turned his eyes up to the surgeon. “Oh, fuck.” He hissed.

“Are you going to cum for me?” Francis panted, barley taking the dick out of his mouth.

“Don’t stop!” Hawkeye cried out.

“Of course.” He took him in deep as he could, stroking with his mouth and tongue.

“Francis, Francis.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the man he loved as he worked. He groaned as the man’s tongue swirled around his head. “Just like that, please.”

Francis worked his hand around again, stroking and sucking in tandem. “I’m going to, going to,” and then he was cumming down his throat.

“Delightful.” Francis said, after swallowing.

“I love you.” Hawkeye said, pulling the other man into a fierce hug.

“You always say that after I’m done.” Francis laughed.

“You could have been shot!” Hawkeye paced back and forth in the small tent. Francis ate his eggs and watched him.

“Could have. Wasn’t. Eat your scrambled eggs Hawkeye. We won’t see anymore.” He pointed at his untouched plate.

“How are you so calm?” He sat down heavily in a folding chair.

“How are you so calm during surgery, when everything is going wrong?” The eggs were quite good. Fresh.
“That’s not the same.”
“It is the same. I’m a priest. I was doing my job. Now it look me quite a lot of scrounging to get these, and I had to sit through that omelet that Colonel Potter took the trouble of having made. I want us both to enjoy these.” He pointed again at the mess kit, with its small pile of eggs and toast. “And I will have no more of this business.”

“Yes sir.” He leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for the eggs.”

“Any time dear.”

“Now I can’t see you Gypsy Lee!” Beej shouted, laughing.

“Take it off Hawkeye, I wanna see some skin!” Francis yelled, watching the surgeon humiliate himself. He couldn’t help himself, egging the other man on.

“You’re the top! You’re the Tower of Pisa! You’re the smile on the Mona Lisa. I’m a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop! But if baby, I’m the bottom, you’re the top!” Hawkeye dang at the top of his lungs. He wriggled his bottom around, and Francis almost peed himself laughing.


He watched as Hawkeye screamed for a double bourbon, standing in the disaster that was The Officer’s Club. He had driven straight through the wall in a stolen army Jeep.

“Father, what are we going to do?” B.J. stood in shock next to him.

“He won’t talk to me. I’ve been trying since it happened. He keeps brushing me off. Won’t even see me.” Francis clasped his hands together, tears in his eyes.

“Me either. We’ve gotta do something.” He wrapped an arm around the Father’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if we can, if we can,” He couldn’t hold it. He started to cry, openly and unashamed.

“Oh man, what are we going to do?” B.J. pulled the other man to his chest, and let him cry.

“Pull it together boys.” Colonel Potter ran up, watching Hawkeye slam his hands on the counter, demanding service. “I put in a call to Sidney. Hawkeye finally cracked and this is too big for us to deal with.” Francis pulled away from B.J. and all three men watched as Hawkeye sat down in the rubble, and cried.

He watched the stony goodbye fade as the helicopter pulled up and away from the remains of the 4077.

He loved B.J. like a brother, and was going to miss him. But at least he could write him letters and call him on the phone. He could show up at his doorstep when he needed to see him.
He had spent so long, trying to get away, trying to get home. And he hid his absolute terror, with jokes, with booze, behind shenanigans with B.J. And he hid it sharing a bed with Francis. Father Francis John Patrick Mulcahy.
He threw everything on line, he gave his heart, to the only one who had really mattered here. He poured his heart out, hoping to get Francis’s in return. Instead, he was left with a huge gaping hole.
What had he done wrong? He knew they never talked about the future. But he loved him! They were in love, Francis, he had told him, he had said those words. They had both said “I love you.”

What if this had always been the plan? To abandon him the moment real life kicked in? He felt tears start to sting his eyes and shook his head violently to clear it.
Fine. Okay. If that’s what he wanted. If Francis wanted to abandon him, now that he has cracked up and now that they were going home, fine. He would do that. He would spend the rest of his life, forgetting the Father.

Chapter Text

He'd been so looking forward to it. Radar's wedding. He hadn't heard that the man was going to be there. But he could hope. Hawkeye loved Radar, and maybe he would surprise them all by showing up. That's the kind of thing he would do, even if he had never responded to the invitation.

But then Radar showed up at Colonel Potter's house and no one actually made it to Iowa. Francis hadn't realized how high his hopes had really been until they were crushed.

They had never discussed this. What to do after the war. Hawkeye had spent the years they had been together, whispering sweet nothings into his ears. But he had never lived more than a minute into the present. He simply couldn't. It was part of how he coped with war. Francis had always assumed that when peace was reached, they would discuss things. They were in love after all.

But then Hawkeye had snapped and Francis lost his hearing. It was all so sudden that by the time he had had a breath, Hawkeye was gone. They hadn't talked. He made some joke that Francis couldn’t hear, and then he was just gone.

He had taken the other man’s warmth and love for granted. He has simply waited for Hawkeye to come to him. To make plans with him. What had he really been expecting after all? That they could form a life after the war?

He had never admitted to Colonel Potter or Klinger that part of the reason he had fallen to drink was Hawkeye. His trying to come to terms with the loss of his hearing and his heart. Now he had his hearing back and he stayed away from liquor.

All he wanted was to see the man. Maybe place a hand on his arm and feel the warmth there. Just be around him. Soak in his presence a little. But it wasn't to be.
When he got home that night. He sat down at his little desk and wrote a letter. He had written countless letters to his love and had never sent them. He was terrified that he would get some meaningless polite response. But Hawkeye was going to get this one. It had been a long stressful day. And he was angry. Angry at himself, at Radar, at Hawkeye. So he wrote the letter. And sent it before he could calm down.


When Hawkeye strolled down to get the mail that Saturday he was trying to be chipper. Dad had suggested a vacation, but neither of the really wanted to leave Maine or their patients. Hawkeye had always had big plans for himself as a surgeon, but Korea had left him shaken. So, he helped put out the family shingle. He was trying to get over the unexpected shift in his life. Not knowing if he would get through it. He sorted through the letters, until he saw one with his name on it. The return address was Missouri, but the name. It couldn't be. Francis? He tucked the other letters into his robe pocket and opened it right there in the yard.

Dear Hawkeye,

I've written you many time these last few months. Since returning from Korea, I wanted some connection with you. I never sent those letters. I must admit, I was scared you wouldn't respond, or far worse, your response would not be you. That it would be some form of a polite brush off. And that would hurt more.
But today I'm angry. At myself and at you. So, I'm mailing this before I can think better of it.

Radar got married today. I have no idea if you were invited. I assume you were as the Colonel, Klinger and myself all were and Radar loved you most. I don't know.
All I know is that I wanted to see you very badly. We never made it to the wedding. Radar came to us instead. I ended up officiating the ceremony. She's a lovely thing.
When the war ended, why didn't you come to me? Anything would have been better than the nothing I'm left with. If you never wanted to see me again, at least I would know. My heart would break, but I imagine it would hurt about as much as it does now. Yes, I could have come to you, but that's not how this arrangement of ours worked.

I think about you always, what your doing, how you are. I look at the photo I have of the two of us together. I like to imagine you cooking and laughing. I like to imagine you reading a book. Curled into a chair and ignoring the world. Listening to the radio softly, maybe. Maybe just sitting, staring out the window, listening to the ocean.

I've moved from Pennsylvania here to River Bend Missouri to work at General Pershing. I will tell you, it’s because I had a drinking problem. I felt so useless as a priest because of my hearing, when I got back that I tried drowning myself in scotch. My sister came, called Colonel Potter and he and Klinger pulled me up by my bootstraps, as it were. They went in and repaired the damage to my ears and I've recovered most of my hearing. Sherman also rescued Max, getting him a job here at General Pershing. Soon Lee is going to have a baby very soon now.

If I write anymore, I'm going to end up down at the bar across the street. When you respond to this, Hawkeye, please just be to the point. I don't want a lot of nothingness on paper. If you’re going to do that, I’d rather you not respond at all. I just don't want to hurt anymore.

Maybe if I get closure, I can start to heal my wounds.



Hearing problem? Hawkeye read the letter again. If the priest had this trouble before they left Korea, since before he- Hawkeye turned and ran up the driveway.

8 hours later he was pulling into the parking lot of General Pershing Hospital. He had gotten the last seat on a flight out of Portland to Saint Louis. His father hadn't tried to talk any sense into him, just thrown some clothes into a bag and made him change. He had been in such a state he was ready to fly all the way here in his bathrobe.
It was late, and he knew Francis wouldn't be here now but it was the only place to go. The return address on the letter was here. He had clutched that letter in his hand all day. Read it countless times. He hoped it wasn't too late.

Hawkeye made his way inside and found the information desk. A tired young woman sat there flipping through a magazine.

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you." Hawkeye said, keeping his voice low.

"Yes sir? How can I help you?" She looked up, her smile thin.

"I'm looking for someone." He said.

"I'm afraid visiting hours are over sir." She folded her hands together, looking up at him.

"No, I'm sorry, not a patient. A priest. Father Francis Mulcahy? He works here?"

"Oh yes." Her face brightened a touch at the name. "I don't believe he's in right now."

"Do you have a home address or number?" He asked.

"I can't give out that information sir." She said, her smile turning down. "You can leave a note for him if you like. He should be in tomorrow."

"Can I wait here for him?"

"I'm afraid that would be against regulations." She bent at the waist and opened a drawer, pulling out a yellow legal pad. He took it, and an offered pencil.

Hawkeye had gotten no further than Francis when he heard his own name called. He turned and there stood the Colonel.

"What the devil are you doing here?" He came down the hallway and stuck out his hand to shake. Then he pulled him into a hug.

"Colonel, boy, am I glad to see you." Hawk said when they stepped back. "You must know where he is."


"Francis, Father Mulcahy. He wrote me a letter." Hawkeye still clutched it in his left hand.

"A stamps a whole hell of a lot cheaper than a plane ticket, Pierce." The Colonel lead him away from the desk.

"He was deaf! And drinking and, and," Heartbroken he wanted to say but couldn't. "I was worried. I am worried."

"Calm down, we got that all sorted out now." He said, walking Hawkeye back down the hallway.

"How is he Colonel, really?" Hawk tried to keep that plaintive note out of his voice.

"He seems to be fine and dandy."

"I'd like to see him." He squeezed the letter.

"He will be in tomorrow at 8am sharp. Always is." They were walking past a ward of sleeping patients now.

"Does he have an office I can wait in?"

"What's going on Hawkeye?" Potter stopped walking and turned to face him.

"I just really need to talk to him." Hawk put his hand together, as if praying. "Please."

"Okay, don't tell me but I can't let you into his office."

"Where does he live? I rented a car, I'll drive over there."

"He just moved out of the seminary. Don't know where he is now." Potter clasped his hands behind his back. Hawkeye made an awful pained sound and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Are you okay?" Potter laid a hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder.

"Yes? I don't know. I screwed something up very badly and I have to talk to him as soon as I can. I want to fix this. I need to." Hawk felt tears begin to prickle in his eyes.

"Come stay with me and the missus. We'd be glad to have you." Potter squeezed his shoulder.

"No, I couldn't." He shook his head and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"What are you going to do, sleep in your car waiting for him?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe."

"Don't be stubborn, come back to the house with me. I’m due the same time as the Father. You can come in with me."

"I'll never sleep." Hawk dropped his arms, losing the battle.

"At least you won't be sitting up in the car all night."


The Colonel's house was spacious and homey. He had expected nothing less. There was a light burning in the kitchen.

"Mildred usually leaves something for me to eat when I'm stuck late at the hospital." Potter hung up his jacket and hat. "I'll split it with you. How about a belt?"

"Best idea I've heard all day." Hawkeye shrugged off his jacket and followed the man into his kitchen.

"Looks like tonight's fair is cold roast beef. How about a couple sandwiches Pierce?"

He had a plate in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other.

"And a scotch if you have some." Hawkeye sat down laying his letter on the table in front of him.

"So, what's in that letter that you had to fly all the way out here?" Potter asked, pouring a drink and setting it in front of Hawkeye. "You said you screwed something up."

"I don't really want to talk about it until I talk to Francis." Hawk sipped on his drink, resisting the urge to simply down it. This was no time to get drunk. No time to wake up hung over.

"Okay, I'll give you that." The Colonel set down a plate in front of him.

"Looks good." His stomach rumbled. "I haven't had anything since breakfast."

"In that much of a hurry to get here?" He sat down with his own plate.

"Yes. I got on a plane as soon as I got his letter." Hawk said.

"I think there's something going on. But I'll wait till you want to tell me." Potter took a bite of his sandwich.

"Thank you. And for the food too." Hawk took his own bite.


Later, after Potter had shown him to the guest bedroom, Hawk laid on the coverlet. He toed off his shoes and curled in on himself, staring at the wall. The wallpaper had little daisies on it. Somewhere in this town, Francis was curled up in his bed. Was he sleeping, or was he maybe reading a book? He could get lost in a book and stay up late into the night. Sometimes, when Hawkeye snuck over to see him, he would be asleep on his bed, a book in his hand. He would always take a long moment to watch the other man sleep. Lost in the thoughts of the Father, he surprised himself by falling asleep.


Father Mulcahy woke up late and missed the first bus. By the time he got to the hospital it was quarter after the hour. As he hurried around the corner to his office he could hear raised voices. In front of his office stood three people. There was the Colonel and Klinger talking to a taller man. He had a head of salt and pepper hair. His shoulders were stooped and he was very upset.

"You said he would be here at 8. It is now 8:17 and I see no priest!" The man waved his hand at the office door. He looked familiar.

"Calm down Doc, he takes the bus!" Klinger said, shrugging his shoulders, gesturing with the clipboard.

"I believe I see the man of the hour." Potter had seen the Father coming down the hall towards them. He raised his hand.

"I apologize for being late," Francis started, but then the figure turned and it was Haweye.

"Francis," Hawkeye said, sagging with relief. "I got your letter."

"I didn't expect you to respond like this!" Francis rushed down the hall, and took him by the upper arm. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you." Hawk said. "You're hurting my arm."

"If you'll excuse us please gentleman." The priest dug his keys out of his jacket and opened his office. He hustled the taller man through and shut the door behind them.
"What the heck was that?" Klinger asked.

"I've been told we'll get the full scoop soon." Potter said, shaking his head and walking off.


"I thought you'd be happy to see me." Hawkeye pulled the now crumpled letter from his pocket.

"You overwhelmed me." Francis took off his jacket, slamming it onto the door hook.

"Why didn't you tell me? About your hearing?" It was Hawkeye's turn to grab the Father.

"I didn't want you to send me home. I needed to finish my work with the orphans." He wrenched his arm out of Hawk's grip. "And I'm fine now. Thank you."

"But Francis, I would have wanted to examine your ears. I still do!" He took him by both shoulders now, crumpling the letter.

"Why are you here?" Francis turned his head and shut his eyes, unable to look him in the eyes.

"To explain to you why you think I never talked to you about our future." Hawkeye's voice shifted down, low and gentle.

"Hawkeye-" Francis started.

"No. Look at me. Open your eyes." Hawkeye said. The Father did, slowly. "There they are, so blue they make the sky look grey."

"Hawkeye, please,"

"Just listen to me." He slid his hands down and took the Father's hands in his. "When I got back from Tokyo, I was in a very bad place. But the first second I had after they called an end to the war, I went to find you. We were still at the other camp, the one we went to to escape the fire. You were sitting on a log, watching some ducks on that little stream there. I came up behind you, and asked if you would consider, maybe, coming to Maine with me. There are a few Catholic churches in town and I thought maybe you could find a place there. You didn't say anything. So I went on. Explaining about how nice Maine is. And you didn't say anything, so I said if that wasn't good, then I could wrap things up in Maine and get a job wherever you wanted to go. I was trying not to get angry. But you weren't saying anything. Then I told you, I would follow you anywhere if that's what you wanted. And you started shaking your head and you put your hands over your ears. It must have been a complete coincidence. But at the time. Francis, it broke my heart. I started to cry and I asked you, if you even loved me like you said you did. But you were just shaking your head. You didn't hear me, did you?"

"I remember the ducks." Francis's eyes had gotten very wide. "I sat there and I wanted so badly to hear them. But their beaks kept opening and there was nothing."

"You didn't hear me." Hawk squeezed the Father's hands.

"Not a word. Not a single word." He took a step towards Hawkeye.

"And I spent all these months, just. Destroyed."

"Both of us. For no reason at all." Francis moved his hands up and took Hawkeye's face in his hands. Hawk slipped his hands down and grabbed the priest’s waist. And then they were kissing.

It had been months. Hawkeye had coffee and sugar on his tongue. It was wonderful. He couldn't help but whimper just a little from the feeling.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the accident." Francis breathed.

"You're forgiven." Hawkeye said, and kissed him again. He pulled the Father's hips against him.

"Oh my, it's been so long." He laid kisses on Hawkeye's neck.

"We need to be alone. Now, Francis." Hawkeye turned his neck into the other man's questing lips.

"I have to work." But he didn't stop kissing the sensitive spot at the base of the Doctor's throat.

"Take a sick day, a sick week. I'll take you to Hawaii." He moaned.

"I can't without notice." He felt himself growing hard against Hawkeye.

"Then at least take today. Please."

"Darling," He pulled away and looked up at the other man.

"I'll just have to get on my knees and beg then." Hawkeye dropped to his knees and began fumbling with the Father's belt.

"Oh goodness, Hawkeye!" He said, stifling his moan with the back of his hand. Hawkeye worked the Father's cock out of his shorts and didn't hesitate to swallow it down. He worked his lips back and forth, circling the base with one hand.

"You taste amazing." He ran his tongue around the head, lapping up a bead of precum.

"I'm not going to last. It's been too long."

"Then take me," Hawkeye took Francis's cock again, all the way down to the base, his nose buried in the soft hair there. Francis buried his hands in Hawk's hair and held him tight. He tried to resist but couldn't help himself, he started thrusting into the surgeon’s mouth.

"You feel so good. That hot little mouth." He moaned softly. He pumped his hips and Hawk tried to keep up. "I'm going to, to," Then he was cumming and Hawkeye swallowed every drop. He wiped his mouth with his hand.

"I missed you so much." Hawkeye said and got to his feet. There were tears in his eyes.

"Darling, I missed you too." Mulchay said, and wrapped the other man up in his arms. Hawkeye cried and Francis rubbed his back.


When he finally got himself under control, they sat down in his office chairs.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." Hawkeye wiped his eyes. "And I shouldn't have cried like that."

"It's been a long few days. It's understandable." Francis leaned over his desk and took the man's hand. "I can't believe you're actually here."

"In the flesh."

"I'm terrified this is a dream. I had a lot of dreams like this when I first got back to the states."

"When you were drinking?" Hawk asked softly.

"No, they, well. I would wake up in my bed at the rectory, and it would take me a moment to realize I wasn't in Korea. That it had been a dream, and you weren't just next door. I would start to cry, and I couldn't hear myself doing it. So then I would drink. It got so I was drunk almost all the time. I just didn't want to feel anything." Francis turned his eyes away.

"Hey now, don't do that." He took his free hand and turned Francis back towards him. "There's no reason to be ashamed."

"I shouldn't have reacted like that. I should have been strong."

"Want to know what I did when I got home? My family threw me this huge party, and I got plastered. Because I had convinced myself you would be there with me when I saw them all next. That I would be introducing you around to all my family. And every person who came to welcome me back reminded me that you had rejected me. I drank so much I almost fell into a fire place." He shifted his grip and cupped Francis's cheek. "Don't be ashamed of heartbreak."

"You wanted me to meet your family?" Francis asked, amazed.

"Oh yeah, of course. I was going to tell them about how amazing you are as a priest and how you helped out so much in OR. How everyone appreciated you. And how you were going to be taking up the mantel at the Catholic Church just down the street from my Father’s office. You could live in the church, or with Dad and me." He gently ran a thumb over the other man’s cheek.

"I always thought you were a live in the moment kind of guy. And here you were, making plans for our future."

"I tried to live each moment as my last in Korea, but with you. I couldn't not think about those things. You made my whole world into something new."

"And do you still want that?" His eyes were bright, hopeful.

"I'll give you the world if you let me." He leaned forward and kissed him gently.

"Oh my." Francis blushed.

"Let me take you home. Let me make love to you." Hawkeye whispered against the priest’s lips.

"Colonel Potter and Max. They'll want to know what's going on." He kissed him again.

"Trust me, they’re already on the war path. Take one day for us. We'll face reality tomorrow." Hawkeye said between kisses.

"Yes, Hawkeye yes. Ok. Take me home." Francis buried his hands in the surgeon’s hair and captured his lips again.


Francis made one stop at reception to leave a message for the Colonel saying he was leaving for an unavoidable emergency. They managed to keep their hands off each other until they made it into the car. Then Hawk scooped up the Father’s hand and kissed it. The priest directed him a few miles over to the apartment block he lived in.

"I'm afraid it's rather, modest." Francis cast his eyes down when they stepped into the lobby.

"As long as it has a bed and a door we can lock, it'll be wonderful." Hawkeye put his hand on the back of Francis's neck and squeezed.

They walked up three flights and Francis unlocked his door. It was just a small room with a full sized bed, a small desk and bookshelf. It was crammed with books and that made Hawkeye smile.

"I bought some new sheets, the old ones were very scratchy." Francis had his back to Hawkeye. He set his bag down on a chair. Hawkeye took him by the shoulder and turned him around.

"It's perfect. It's you." He wrapped one arm around the shorter man, fitting one hand into the small of his back. Their hips slotted together and Hawkeye leaned in to kiss the other man.

"Let's go to bed." Francis pulled from his grip and started to undo his collar. Hawkeye stepped around behind him and stilled his hands.

"Let me." Hawkeye pulled the collar free and set it gently on the desk. He worked his hands down the the hem of the shirt. The Father raised his arms and let him pull it off over his head. He couldn't help himself, that neck looked so delicious, he bent down and kissed it.

"Oh, that's the spot." Francis reached up and undid the ties on his dickie and let it fall to the ground. Instead of letting his hand drop he cupped the back of the surgeon’s head holding him to his neck. Hawk slipped his fingers under the hem of the Father's white undershirt and played with the bare skin there. His breath hitched and caught in his throat.

"You like that Francis? Me touching you?" Hawk bit gently at his neck.

"Leave a mark." The words were moaned out.

"What?" Hawk pulled back completely, his hands stilling.

"In Korea we couldn't. Because anyone could walk into the showers at anytime and see me. But. We're home Hawkeye." His fingers scratched lightly at the surgeon’s scalp. "I want to be able to touch the mark and feel it. Feel it ache and know you love me."

"Yes, please." He stripped the Father out of his undershirt, and latched onto the skin where neck meet shoulder. He worried and laved the mark, biting and sucking. Francis moaned and gripped Hawkeye's hair.

"Don't stop whatever you do." Francis started to go weak at the knees and Hawkeye wrapped an arm around him and held him up. He sucked harder, using tongue and teeth. His cock responded, growing hard against the crack of Francis's ass. He rutted against the other man, moaning into his skin. Not stopping. Trying to make the mark as vivid as he could.

"Oh yes." Hawkeye breathed in, pulling back from his lover to take a look at his handiwork. A deep purple bruise. He ran his tongue over the mark, smiling as the smaller man melted against him.

"I must express a similar sentiment." Francis breathed. He had collapsed completely, letting Hawkeye hold him up.

"Francis," Hawkeye whined into his ear, thrusting his hips against the priest. "Bed."

"You are wearing way too many clothes." Francis steadied himself and turned in Hawkeye's grip to face the man. He stepped on tip toes and kissed him.

"Help me with this." Hawkeye said, shrugging off his jacket, and fumbling with buttons. Together they stripped him out of his shirt and undershirt. They striped off their own pants.

"You're so beautiful." Francis stepped forward, pressing them together and laid a hand onto Hawk’s chest. With his other hand he gripped both their dicks, stroking them together.

"Fuuuuck." Hawkeye breathed, harsh. "If you don't stop I'm going to cum all over your hand."

"Get on the bed." Francis's voiced dropped, rough and gravely. He let the surgeon go.

"Yes." Hawkeye dropped onto the bed, spreading his legs wide, gripping his cock and stroking.

"No. Don't touch." He was standing at the end of the bed and watching, a hungry look in his eyes. The doctor whimpered but pulled his hand away. "Good."

"Francis, please," Hawkeye's voiced cracked just a little.

"I love when you beg." The priest pulled a drawer on his desk and brought out a container of Vaseline. He scooped out a generous amount and started to pull on his cock.

"Have I ever told you I love how you look when you do that?"

"Not lately."

"I love it. Filthy." Hawkeye clasped his hands together in an effort not to stroke his dick.

"I love you." Francis said kneeling on the bed, running his fingers around the pucker of Hawkeye's asshole.

"I love you too." He moaned, pushing into the touch. Without warning, Francis pushed two fingers inside him.

"I need you." The shorter man gasped, scissoring his fingers while thrusting in and out.

"Baby, I'm already yours." Hawkeye thrust into the touch without shame, deciding if he wasn't allowed to touch his dick, it didn't mean he couldn't put on a show. He pinched both his nipples and was rewarded with a low growl from his lover.

"You're beautiful." Francis twisted his fingers up and touch that sensitive bundles of nerves. The surgeon moaned and arched his back, leaking precum onto his stomach. "That's right. Moan for me."

"Please!" He wantonly thrust his hips for the man above him.

"You only had to ask." Francis shifted forward and pushed the head of his cock into Hawkeye. "Tight. Oh. Tight."

"It's been so long." Hawkeye whimpered.

"Oh my love. I'm so sorry we've been apart." The priest pushed forward, inching into Hawkeye's willing body.

"No, it's my fault, I should have tried harder." Hawkeye let go of his nipples and gripped the Father's hands.

"We both should have." He pulled out slowly. "Forget all that. We're okay. We made it." He shifted his hips and pushed back in, running over Hawkeye's prostate.

"Don't leave me." Hawkeye laid kisses on both of Francis's palms.

"Never again." He stroked forward again and again and again. Speeding up his thrusts till he was pounding into the pliant body under him.

"Oh yes, like that!" For once they didn't have to worry about noise, or being caught. They only had to concern themselves with each other. Francis gripped Hawk's left leg and pushed it up to his shoulder.

"You feel so good." Francis leaned into Hawkeye, pressing his leg down and tightening him up. They kissed for a brief moment.

"Baby, I'm going to," Hawkeye panted into the Father's mouth.

"So soon? I love it." He reached down and stroked the hard cock between them. Hawkeye went rigid and screamed out the Father's name, cuming. Francis’s thrusts became ragged and broken, his hips stuttering against the surgeon. "I'm going to cum too, going to fill you up."

"I want it. I want all of it." Hawkeye gripped the man's hip and thrust up as if trying to get more of him inside.

"So good." Francis kissed him again spreading his lips. He came into him, pushing against him, shooting as deep as he could. He collapsed in a heap on top him. Hawkeye peppered the top of his head with kisses.

Some minutes later he rolled to the side and stood, long enough to get a towel to clean them up. They resumed the old position, Hawkeye spread out and Francis pillowed his head on his chest. He bent down and pulled the blanket at the foot of the bed over them.

"That was wonderful." Hawkeye kissed the top of Francis's head again.

"It's been so long." He sighed and snuggled further into the lanky man.

"And you were so filthy." He clapped a hand to Francis's shoulder and squeezed. "It was amazing."

"Well, I must admit, I didn't know if I would ever get to be with you again. And now that I have you here. I just couldn't help my mouth." He chuckled.

"I meant what I said in your office, I want to build a life with you."

"Hawkeye," Francis started.

"I know we can't have a normal life. I just want you around. Same house or same town. Anywhere. Whatever you want. As long as I can see you. Touch you. Be near you."

"And if I wanted to stay here in Riverbend?"

"That's fine. Is General Pershing hiring?" He kissed the top of the priest's head.

"You're serious." The shorter man turned and looked up.

"Of course. It doesn't have to be Maine. You're what's important." Hawkeye threaded the fingers of his free hand through one of the Father's.

"You love Maine. What about your Father? And your job?"

"Trying to talk me out of it hun?" Hawkeye's voice softened.

"No. No. I just want to make sure you thought this through." Francis shifted again, to look more deeply into Hawks eyes.

"Do you want me here?"

"Yes. More than anything." He kissed him again.

"Then that settles it. I'm only working with my Father right now. He's been pushing me to do anything at all. If I tell him I'm moving he'll understand."

"And. If. You tell him about us?" Francis got very quiet. "I'm not saying you have to. I'm just asking."

"My Father knows." Hawkeye was just as quiet.

"About, you and me?"

"He already knew about my, deviant tendencies. And he knew I was seeing someone during the war. He guessed simply from how I wouldn't talk about it, and my actions at the party that it had soured. He'll be ecstatic to hear different." The surgeon smiled softly.

"He knows and doesn't care?" Francis's voice perked up a little.

"Not even a little bit. Dad's progressive."

"I just didn't want to come between you and your father." Francis smiled.

"If I had to choose between you, and my father, I love my father, but I love you more." Hawkeye kissed that broad smile.

"You can't mean that."

"Darling, it's true. I want to spend forever with you."

"Oh, Hawkeye," Francis shifted and pressed and Hawk could feel him hardening against his thigh.

"My father gets you all hot and heavy hmm? Maybe I should introduce you two." Hawkeye laughed and Francis smiled.

"You get me all hot and heavy." He pressed his growing erection against the other man. "All that talk."

"Is that a roll of quarters in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" The surgeon wiggled his hips, grinding against the Father.

"Oh that mouth." In a move he must have picked up from Hawkeye himself, he turned and flipped up Hawk’s legs, pressing against him in the most obscene way. He lent down and sealed lips over the surgeons, rolling his hips. Hawkeye whimpered.

"Oh, watch I'm still sensitive." He moaned against the priest’s lips.

"Can I have you again?" The shorter man panted, now fully hard.

"Yes," He spread his legs further. They kissed again.


They surfaced later for lunch. After talking about it, they had called General Pershing and scheduled to meet up with the Colonel the next day. He didn't want to be put off another day, but accepted.

"Will anybody mind if I stay here tonight?" Hawk asked later, snuggled up in bed with Francis.

"The building is a home to gambling parlors and prostitutes alike." His eyes were touched by sleep. "We're tame by comparison."

"You know this will be the first time we spend the whole night in bed with each other." Hawkeye said.

"The first of many I hope."

"Although, I have to say, maybe we could get a bit of a bigger place? I don't want to insult you're taste..."

"It was simply all I could afford." He shrugged.

"We can afford something nicer now." Hawk kissed his loves forehead.

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, The Colonel hasn't hired you yet. Right now, I'm the bread winner." Francis smiled, rather cheekily.

"My sugar daddy." He threw his arms around the other man.

"Speaking of Colonel, you mentioned earlier that he and Klinger would want to know what was going on." Francis said.

"I didn't know where to find you. He found me at the hospital by pure chance."


"And I was out of my mind. I needed to see you, needed to fix this." Hawkeye scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Did you tell him about us?" Francis took him by the hand.

"No, and if we're not going to tell him the real reason I flew across country on a spur of the moment, then we've got to figure out what to tell him." He squeezed gently.

"We should be able to tell the people we love, that we're in love." Francis said.

"Not everyone sees what we do as love." The surgeon sighed.

"Do you think telling them is the right thing to do?"

"I know you want to stay here at the VA, so maybe we should hold off saying anything."

"The world is not exactly a tolerant place." Francis sighed himself. "It's not very Christian.”

“No, not really."

"I think we have to tell them." Francis said.

"And if they are less than receptive?" Hawkeye asked.

"You said there's a church down the block from your Father's office right?" Francis kissed the tip of Hawkeye's nose. "There's always Maine."

"Now who said I was that easy?"

"Oh that mouth." Francis kissed him to shut him up, not for the first time, or hopefully the last.


"Alright Pierce, are you ready to tell me why you were running around my hospital in a tizzy?" The Colonel sat behind his desk studying the pair of them, with Klinger standing behind him.

"Well. I got a letter from Francis." He gestured with his hands. "It might be easier if we just showed you." Francis turned sharply to face Hawkeye, his eyes harsh, warning against shenanigans. Hawk simply threaded his fingers into Francis's.

"Oh, wow!" Klinger's voice cracked out.

"I always thought there was something special between you two." The Colonel crossed his arms.

"I didn't know that Francis was deaf. When we left Korea, that fact caused me to accidentally leave him behind." Hawkeye said.

"That explains why you busted a gut getting down here." Potter said.

"I had to. If there was any chance of saving what we had, I had to try."

"You two are like together, together?" Klinger sounded incredulous.

"Yes we are Max." The Father's voice was quiet compared to the clerk’s.

"And I'm guessing that by the hand holding here, that you two made up? This was your emergency yesterday Padre?" The Colonel asked.

"I apologize for the lie, Colonel. I must say, I shared Hawkeye's urgency." Francis said, squeezing the surgeons hand, as if for reassurance.

"I feel like I should have been informed." Klinger said, crossing his arms.

"I'm with Klinger on that one, you could have told us years ago."

"B.J. knew," Hawkeye said. "He kept it a secret for us."

"So all those nurses?" Klinger asked.

"Cover." Hawkeye shrugged. "There hasn't been anyone else for me since Francis."

"Just like me and Mildred." Colonel Potter smiled.

"You're not going to be hitting on me are you?" Klinger threw his hands up palms out.

"Is your name Francis John Patrick Mulcahy?" He glared at the clerk.


"Then no." Hawkeye crossed his legs.

"I'm happy for you two, but advertising this might not be the best thing." The Colonel uncrossed his arms but clasped his hands on the blotter.

"That's not really part of the plan," Francis said. "But those who are close to us deserve to know."

"And you didn't tell us before why?" Klinger crossed his arms again. Hawkeye started to answer but the Father cut him off.

"Because, in the middle of a war zone, you need to keep some things for yourself. I clung to Hawkeye some days like a drowning man. Yes, it was partly due to not knowing if anyone would accept us, but it was also selfishness." He ran his thumb over Hawkeye's.

"Some days Francis was all I had. He's right about clinging to each other. I didn't want to give up any piece of us."

"That's beautiful!" Always over emotional, Max came around and wrapped one arm around each of them and hugged them all together.

"Everyone needed something there. I'm just pleased as punch that you two had each other." Potter smiled again.

"Does this mean you don't think we're sexual deviants?" Hawkeye tried to pry himself out of Klinger's grip.

"Nope. Just people."

"Happy people in love!" Klinger said.

"Let them go Klinger." The Colonel waved his hand at his clerk. "Will you be staying in the area? Or going back to Maine?"

"Looking for anyone here?" The surgeon let go of Francis's hand and extracted himself from the embrace of a happy Lebanese puppy.

"Always, if that's what you want."

"Francis wants to stay here, at least for the time being. He's here. I'm here. Simple as that." Hawkeye smiled at his partner.

"That's wonderful! You'll be here when Soon Lee gives birth! Did the Father tell you she's pregnant?" Max still had his arms wrapped around the Father's neck. He was more polite then Hawkeye, and couldn't seem to get out of the exuberant man’s grip.

"He mentioned it, congratulations." Hawk clapped him on the shoulder.

"I want to say it again, though. This isn't the most tolerant town." The Colonel clasped his hands again.

"We understand completely." Francis pulled on Klinger's arm.

"So when can you start?" Potter waved the clerk off again and this time he let go.

"Give me a week, to wrap things up with my Dad. I also want to find a better apartment. No offense Francis." Hawkeye took the Father's hand again.

"Oh, none taken." He had an amazingly wide smile.

"Beautiful." Hawkeye couldn't help himself.

"Oh, Hawkeye," Mulcahy blushed wildly.

"Who couldn't love that face?" He squeezed his love’s hand again.


"What do you think?" Hawkeye had caged the key off the landlord and brought Francis up after work. It was a small two bedroom place, with a balcony overlooking a quite street. It had its own bathroom and kitchen unlike the Father's room at the boarding house. It even had a washer and dryer.

"What's the price per month?" Francis asked, looking at the oven.

"If we get this unit with the washer and dryer, it’s $400." Hawkeye said, looking into the fridge. Francis let out a low whistle.

"A bit much."

"We could get the unit without the washer and dryer that's $350." Hawkeye pulled the other man into him, back to chest, resting his chin on top of his head.

"Are there any other places in town you liked?" Francis gripped Hawk's arms, looking around the place.

"I've seen a few, but I like this one the best." He rocked the priest side to side just a little.

"Why’s that?"

"Look at the way the light filters through that sliding glass door there." He tilted them around to stare out the balcony. The light slanted in, illuminating a patch on the carpet. Glowing warmly in the late afternoon sun.

"Looks cozy." Francis smiled, tilting his head around to look up at the doctor.

"When I first saw it, all I could imagine was you curled up right there, in a soft chair. You fell asleep in the sun reading a book." Hawkeye pressed his forehead to the priest's.

"We could make this a nice home." He let his eyes fall shut, enjoying the embrace.

"I'll sign the papers, then." Hawkeye murmured, bringing his lips to Francis's. It wouldn't be easy, but at least they were together.


Vermont, 2000

A car slowly pulls up in front of a courthouse. A young girl steps out and opens the back door helping one man step out, who in turn helps the other. They are both dressed to the nines, suites and ties. The taller one, uses a cane and offers his other arm to help support the shorter one. Age has taken its toll of both men, and it takes them awhile to get going. But when they do it's mostly smooth sailing. Both of them stand strongly upright, not letting age bow their shoulders.

Finally they reach the top of the steps up to the courthouse, slow going but managed. The young girl runs ahead and opens the doors for them. It's been almost 50 years. The taller one wanted to bring a sign that said it took you long enough, but the shorter one vetoed the idea.

Today in the great state of Vermont, two old men in love, are finally getting married.