Work Text:
The screams and boisterous giggling interspersed with loud baritone cackles led Father Mulcahy to follow the sounds of mayhem to the mess tent. What he found was Hawkeye standing on a long table surrounded by a couple dozen Korean orphans.
“Hurry, hurry!” Hawkeye shouted. “The raft is sinking! Jump to the other raft!” With that, Hawkeye jumped from one table to the next and turned to catch the smaller children as they jumped with him.
“Captain Peirce!” Father Mulcahy gasped. “What are you doing?”
“The floor is lava, Fran...Father! Quick! Jump up. We’ll save you!” Hawkeye grinned putting out an arm to the Father to pull him up.
“Hawkeye, you’re supposed to be reading the children a goodnight story!” he chided, removing protesting children from the table one at a time. “It’s well past their bedtimes.”
“Come on. Have you never played The Floor is Lava?”
“No. My father would have...Well, anyway, it’s time to get these children to bed.”
Hawkeye met Father Mulcahy’s eyes, flashing in frustration...and something akin to sadness he did a good job hiding to most everyone in the camp. Hawkeye sighed. “Okay, kids. The good Father is right. It’s bedtime.” He began passing the younger children down to Father Mulcahy. “Maybe we can play again tomorrow. Everyone know where they are bunking tonight?”
“Hawkeye...” Mulcahy stopped when he saw the joy deflating from his face.
Once all the children were tucked safely in cots, drawers, and bedrolls around the camp, two lovers sat leaning against each other in a moment of privacy in Father Mulcahy’s tent. Well, near privacy. The Father cradled the youngest orphan in his arms, a baby about 6 months old. “I wish you wouldn’t roughhouse with the children so much, Hawkeye.” he chided.
“Come on, Francis. They’re children. They need fun and they’re only here for a few days.” He lifted his head to kiss Francis gently on the cheek. “And frankly, we need the fun too. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I’m afraid I never had much use for adventure or roughhousing, Hawkeye.” Francis whispered sadly. “Both were discouraged in my family growing up. Sometimes with a belt....” He flinched at the memory.
Hawkeye’s heart twisted. Francis had told him enough pieces of his childhood Hawkeye wanted to beat the daylights out of the man Francis called “father.” Tonight, though, he readjusted his body so that he was mostly facing his lover and placed gentle hands on either side of his face. “Francis,” he whispered so as not to wake the sleeping baby in his arms. “No one is ever going to take a belt to you again.”
He then wrapped both Francis and the sleeping baby in his arms and held them both until all three were asleep in a quiet cocoon of blankets and bodies nestled on the tent floor.
The sun shone brightly the next afternoon while children screamed joyfully in the mess tent again. “What in Sam Hill Blazes is going on in here?” Colonel Potter thundered finding most of the refuges from the local orphanage, several nurses, his chief surgeon, and the camp chaplain all standing on tables or benches.
“Oh, Colonel Potter, sir,” Father Mulcahy laughed from the table nearest the door. “The floor is lava. Climb up quickly!”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Potter grinned.
His blue eyes dancing with delight, Hawkeye sent one of his famous smirks to Father Mulcahy across the room.