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As he strolled with studied nonchalance toward the 4077th's supply tent, Hawkeye Pierce gave his naughty little mind free rein. It had been a difficult three days, waiting patiently for this long-delayed assignation with his lover. If only they could be together openly and not have to content themselves with a handful of stolen moments after sunset...
But that was wishful thinking, and Hawkeye knew it. So, he checked in all directions for curious onlookers before opening the door and slipping into the darkened interior of the tent.
He was reaching for the light switch when he realized he wasn't alone -- almost faster than his neurons could process the chain of events, he found himself securely pinned up against the wall, one arm twisted behind his back, by a large male body.
It seemed that BJ had beaten him to the tent -- and the punch.
He smiled in the darkness, surprised and aroused by his lover's aggressive tactics. This kind of macho stuff wasn't BJ's usual style, but he was certainly giving it his all. With a throaty growl, Hawkeye pretended to struggle by grinding his backside against the other man's crotch, playing along with the game.
Unfortunately for Hawkeye, there was one more surprise to come. "Hey!" a voice -- not BJ's -- barked in his ear, "stop that right now or I've got a bullet here with your name on it."
Oh, shit... That unmistakable voice had the effect of a bucket of ice water full in the face, and Hawkeye froze immediately. "Flagg?" he croaked.
"You may know me by that name, but I refuse to confirm or deny anything."
Colonel Sam Flagg, alleged army intelligence operative and paranoiac extraordinaire. A man who saw Commies, pinkos, and crypto-fascists under every bunk and in every bedpan. Hawkeye was screwed, and not in the good way he'd so blithely anticipated.
"Look, Colonel, I promise -- I won't give you any trouble. Could I have my arm back, please?"
Flagg ignored him. If anything, he forced Hawkeye into even more intimate contact with the wall. "I have a few questions for you, Pierce, you disgusting pervert. Who are you here to meet?"
"This is a supply tent. I came in here for supplies."
"Oh, really? What kind of supplies?"
Thinking fast, Hawkeye ran through a list of possibilities. "Sheets! I needed clean sheets. The old ones are ready to walk to the laundry by themselves."
"Hmm," grunted Flagg. "I can believe that. But the rest of your story doesn't pass the sniff test. I've received concrete information, from a source who shall remain unnamed, that one Doctor Benjamin Franklin Pierce has been engaging in illicit conduct of a sexual nature with an unnamed officer of the same gender."
Despite his pledge not to cause trouble, Hawkeye couldn't resist. "Why don't I get to be unnamed? Everybody else is."
"Don't get smart with me, Pierce."
"Wouldn't dream of it. I try to relate to people on their own level."
Before Flagg could voice what was sure to be a snarling rejoinder, the door swung open, then closed, and someone flicked on the light.
It was BJ, of course, late as usual but still a welcome sight. "Hey, Beej," Hawkeye sighed as his friend took in the bizarre scene. "Glad you could make it to the party. Oh, by the way, this isn't what it looks like."
"You okay, Hawk?" BJ asked carefully, mindful of the pistol being brandished.
"Everything's fine. The colonel here just caught me trying to cheat at 'spin the bottle,' and you know what a stickler he is for the rules."
"Colonel Flagg." BJ nodded in Flagg's direction. "What's up?"
"It seems I've bagged my quarry. Two sodomites for the price of one." The grin on Flagg's face was disturbing from any angle, but all the more so from Hawkeye's awkward perspective up against the wall.
"Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," said BJ, cool as a cucumber. Bless him.
"Oh, I think you do, Hunnicutt. Surely you don't expect me to believe that you and Pierce meet here alone after dark to play tiddlywinks or read to each other from the Communist Manifesto?"
"Actually we do that on Thursday nights. You should come by next week. Very entertaining -- when Hawkeye reads, he does all the voices."
"So you're a matched pair of jokers, eh?" sneered Flagg. "Always cracking wise, no respect for authority.... Your kind make me sick."
While their captor was ranting, a subtle shift in BJ's expression told Hawkeye that inspiration had struck. "Say, Colonel," BJ, adopting a more deferential tone and posture, "you must be getting tired, keeping Hawk under control like that. I think there's some rope in the back -- shall I get it so you can tie him up?"
Amazingly, Flagg seemed to be considering the offer. "Sure, all right, go get it. But no funny stuff. Remember who has the gun."
"How could I forget?" BJ moved slowly to the rear of the tent, disappearing from view behind a row of shelves, and Hawkeye's spirits rose. Whatever he was planning, it was bound to work against this fruitcake.
"Hurry up back there," called Flagg. "The rope's either there or it's not."
"Aha, found it! I'm coming back now." When BJ reappeared, he was indeed carrying the promised rope, but when he tried to hand it to Flagg, the colonel refused to take it.
"Oh, no, I'm not falling for that old trick. You're gonna tie him up, smart guy."
With a shrug, BJ reached for Hawkeye's wrists. "You'll have to step back a little, Colonel, so I can get to him."
Under the eagle eye and itchy trigger finger of Colonel Flagg, BJ trussed up his friend like a chicken ready for the oven, while Hawkeye hoped fervently that this was all part of the plan.
Task completed, BJ walked over to stand beside Flagg and admire his handiwork. "There, now. Isn't that better?" He draped a companionable arm around Flagg's shoulders, and that's when Hawkeye caught sight of the loaded syringe BJ must have prepared in the back of the tent. God only knew where he'd been hiding it.
Hawkeye watched in disbelief and admiration as, fast as his eyes could track, BJ expertly palmed the syringe and plunged it into Flagg's jugular, simultaneously restraining the arm that held the gun.
"You...Commie...bastard!" gurgled Flagg, fast losing voluntary motor control. He tried to take a swing at BJ, but the punch went wild, and it wasn't too much longer before he dropped the pistol and slid limply to the floor.
"Fucking beautiful," Hawkeye murmured, lost for a moment in his estimable lover's eyes. "Take a bow, Beej. I'd applaud, but I'm a little tied up right now."
BJ was at his side within half a second, undoing the knots he had tied so convincingly. Free at last, Hawkeye's abused arm started to regain sensation as it wound itself around BJ's waist and pulled him into an embrace.
For as long as they dared, they held each other and indulged in some rewardingly passionate kisses. But neither could forget the problem still sharing the tent floor with them. "What are we gonna do about Flagg?" Hawkeye finally asked. "Did you have a plan for that?"
"Actually, yes. I thought we could...."
*~*~*~*~*~*
Somewhat later, on that same floor, Hawkeye grinned at BJ across an expanse of bare chest belonging to the unconscious Colonel Flagg. The rest of him was also unclothed, as were both Hawkeye and BJ. Over the last twenty minutes, they had wrangled Flagg into positions that the authors of the Kama Sutra could only aspire to, and had a fine time in the process.
"Couldn't we keep the Polaroid camera?" Hawkeye teased. "There's a few more things I want to try later on, just you and me."
"Now, Hawk, I'm pretty sure Frank would notice if his camera went missing. Now that we've got our incriminating evidence, we have to return it."
"Aw, Beej, you're no fun at all!"
END