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Summary
"Hawk," He began, searching his face for an answer to a question he couldn't bring himself to say aloud. As always, Hawkeye understood.
He pressed closer to BJ, placing a hand on his hip and leaving an imprint of viscera on his surgical gown. BJ sighed, Hawkeye and the patient's warmth intermingling in his mind. He pictured the patient as an extension of Hawkeye himself. Imagined him in disarray. A Hawkeye who placed complete trust in BJ to pull him apart and put him back together again.
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BJ's dreams portray two constants in his life: surgery, and Hawkeye.
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Sasuke fulfills a promise to Suigetsu in taking a detour to the land of waves, where they come upon the Great Naruto Bridge on their way to collect Kubikiribocho. He reminisces on a life he left behind.
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Usually he had to fight Hawkeye for every bill, had to argue the man into taking evenings off, practically had to pin him down to let him relax. It didn’t come naturally to him, being looked after. Hawkeye liked to do things on his own terms. Catlike—his schedule and whims were his own, and he moved through the world with a lithe self-determination. But maybe, BJ thought, it was different when nobody was working. When there was no reason to be on edge, or alert, or constantly ready to dash in for a shift, well, maybe Hawkeye could be convinced to be more of a lapcat.
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Bookmarked by shimelyasmin
11 Mar 2026
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Hawkeye grabbed at the sports section again, and put a hole clean through to the advice columns.
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A few household games one evening in San Francisco, 1956.
Bookmarked by shimelyasmin
11 Mar 2026
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“You’re gonna keep me company down there?” Hawk asks when it’s clear BJ has settled on his knees, resting his ass on the tops of his heels.
BJ shrugs. “Sure.”
“Alright,” he replies, with a smile that makes BJ feel like there’s a joke he isn’t in on. BJ doesn’t want to admit there’s something intoxicating in the way Hawkeye peers down his nose at him, an equal headiness when he focuses back on his papers without a second thought to the man at his feet. It’s hard to tell if it’s embarrassment or arousal that colors BJ’s face.
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Bookmarked by shimelyasmin
05 Mar 2026
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Hawkeye hadn’t had a real egg in forever. All at once, it was the only thing he wanted, and not the powdered stuff they glopped onto a tray in the mess tent - he wanted something real and fragile and perishable - fried, boiled, poached, something, anything. Early on in the war they’d been more abundant; what had happened?
Bookmarked by shimelyasmin
24 Feb 2026
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Summary
Hawkeye does what he always does.
Bookmarked by shimelyasmin
23 Feb 2026

