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Hawkeye is officially on bedrest, and going insane. Only a few flu-infected people were left, and Hawkeye had the privilege of being one of them. The jab in his ass really hadn’t ended up doing much good. He groaned as he rolled onto his side, he wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t take pain. By his calculations, his head was going to explode any second.
The door into the germ factory opened up with a creak, and Hawkeye propped his head up on his pillow. The world went a little dizzy but he ignored it. A grin crept onto his face when he saw who just came in, “Good morning, darling. Have you come to care for your poor sick husband?”
Hot Lips scoffed at him and threw a towel that was lying on a table at his face. And so the evening shift begins.
He closed his eyes and let the towel rest on his face, listening to the click of Margaret’s boots as she drew closer. His bed sunk in as she sat down next to him. He tugged up the scratchy sheets to cover himself.
“Are you feeling better?” Margaret pushed a thermometer into his mouth and removed the towel from his face.
“Peachy.” It came out garbled with the thermometer. He tried to sit up in his bed but promptly gave up when it felt like his arms would give out any second.
Taking the thermometer out of his mouth, Margaret said, “You still have a fever.”
“Will I make it, doctor?” It was meant as a joke but it kind of felt like he wasn’t going to.
“We can only hope not, I think that’s the only way we can keep you away from patients,” Margaret offered a rare smile and Hawkeye felt a flutter in his chest at the sight. At Hot Lips, of all people. She went on, “You know, Pierce, as insufferable as you are, you really are dedicated to your patients.” His hair was damp from his sweat and she brushed it away from his eyes. She must be putting him in his sickened state.
He felt his cheeks flush, but it hopefully wasn’t noticeable. He was pretty peaky already, still, he should probably get a hold of himself.“Well, they did say I was a promising young doctor. You have to show a lot of commitment to get a title like that.”
The patient next across from him stirred and Margaret shook her head at him, getting up to tend to the patient. Okay, back to resting it is.
Korea wasn’t a very nice place to be sick, at home, his dad would tend to him and worry and coddle. Here, you were packed into a room with 10 other people and laid on a creaky mattress. Hawkeye pitied his patients, and himself. But still, even with the fact that Hawkeye would jump on a plane home the first chance he got, the people weren’t so bad.
After Margaret had finished making her rounds on all the patients, she’d come back to him. It didn’t take very long, so no issues. “I don’t have anything else to do here so I’m going to leave soon, is there anything you need before I go?”
Hawkeye suddenly felt the familiar pain of missing comfort, missing home and before he could stop himself, he started mumbling to Margaret, “Can you, just…” He was borderline delirious at this point, if he was going to say this, maybe he was dying.
Being sick had always made Hawkeye a bit of a mess, and eliminated any last bit of a filter he’d had in the first place.
“Just what?” Straight to the point, Margaret was, as always.
“Just stay here for a little bit.” It was awkward coming out of his mouth, too sincere.
She sighed and sat down next to him, probably feeling a bit of pity for him in his state. Hawkeye turned his head to look at her. She looked tired, but her appearance was as neat as ever, never mind a few stray strands. She wore barely any make-up, and god, it wasn’t like she needed it.
“Where did you run away from, Major? Must’ve been pretty bad if you enlisted.”
Responding the only way she could, “I didn’t run away from anywhere. Unlike you, I believe in this country and the war effort.” Margaret must be going soft on him.
“Just say the state.”
“California.”
Hawkeye laughed, and his chest ached with it, but still, California. “You’re a Californian! No wonder you were after the long johns, you’ve been dying in this cold. Are you going to drop dead the next time a breeze hits?”
She swiped at his shoulder, and said, “If you’re just going to sit here and make fun of me, I won’t stay.”
“Fine, fine.”
They lapsed into silence for a few seconds. Somehow, all the patients had gone to sleep. Hawkeye’s pretty sure if he went to sleep, he’d wake up shivering and sweating. Or with a drill in his head.
Margaret checked her watch. “Pierce, I really should get out of here, see if anyone needs help,” she made a move to take a step back but was caught by his hand.
“One second longer?” he urged. She raised her eyebrows, and something in his sleep-deprived mind made him go on, “I need to tell you something.”
“Go on.”
“Margaret, I,” He scrambled his mind for words but the ticking of the clock was too loud and Margaret seemed taken aback by the use of her actual name, “you’re such a brilliant nurse, really. I know I make fun of you, but you’re amazing. Smart. Fantastic. Beautiful.”
The beautiful came last and Margaret opened her mouth. For once in his life, Hawkeye was a little embarrassed. He felt like a schoolgirl confessing to a crush.
She paused, “Pierce, I’m no idiot. Don’t treat me like one of the nurses you chase, I’m not a price.”
“I’m being serious!” It was louder than intended, so he quieted, “Margaret, I swear on this war, I like you. Truly.” The schoolgirl was coming out strong. He was practically giving her a love note and running away giggling. He turned his head away.
But then—Margaret’s hands ghosted cheek to turn his head toward her and her lips gently touched his cheek, and he let out a breath.
Hawkeye smiled, teeth and all, and he fully towards her. “Oh, darling, if only I knew you felt the same way.”
Margaret gave him a gentle shove and stared him down, “Don’t get too cocky, Pierce. We can talk about this once you don’t have the flu and have slept.” With that, she gave him one last soft look and walked away.
Of all people.