Archive of Our Own

"I've got great news," BJ exclaims as he strolls into the kitchen. "Leo's coming to visit next month."

A mid-snack Hawkeye and a studying Margaret stare at him, blinking. Hawk gestures with a potato chip. "Well, go on, tell us the great news already."

"Oh, c'mon," BJ says. "Don't be like that."

"I'll be any way I want," Hawkeye counters. "Don't you remember what he put us through?"

BJ scoffs. "What, the practical jokes?"

"The court-martial?" Hawkeye drawls in the exact same tone. "It took him ages to pay back all that money, too, the son of a bitch."

"He wired me the money two days later!"

"Well, he should've already had it on him when he walked back to camp." With that, Hawk tosses the bangs out of his eyes. His foot is up on the couch with him, three toenails already painted a deep burgundy, and his hand is perfectly steady as he works on the next. He's gotten good at it over the past year. He doesn't always keep them painted, but when the mood strikes him, he can't do anything else until they're finished. If they're dry is another story, but he's a person with only so much patience.

BJ regathers himself. "You'll like him much better when you're seeing him outside of Korea."

“Oh, no, no, no, I’ve spent enough time with that prick to know I’m gonna hate him for the rest of my life.”

“And I’ve heard enough about him to know I won’t like him either,” Margaret says.

“That’s not fair,” BJ complains. “You’re only saying that because Hawkeye’s complained about him so much.”

Margaret lifts a brow and holds a hand up as if to say I rest my case.

"I'm never gonna like him," Hawkeye insists. "You know, people never say that about fleas or mosquitoes or tapeworms, 'Oh, you'll like them better when they're sucking the life out of you.'"

BJ slaps his thigh with the letter. "All right, now, that's enough. Leo was my best man for a reason. I wouldn't have survived my first year at Stanford if it wasn't for him. How would you like it if I was calling your best friend from college a parasite?"

"He was," Hawkeye drawls. He looks at Margaret. "You'll back me up on this, right?"

Margaret flips the page of her textbook. It's miraculous that they're getting words out of her at all. Usually when she's this deep in reviewing her lessons from medical school, she's likely to throw things at them if they disturb her. "We've got enough stress in this house without bringing in a mosquito."

The smug smile that Hawkeye sends BJ's way is all it takes for the simmering frustration in BJ's gut to boil over. "That does it. This isn't something that's up for a vote. I'm not asking permission for him to come over and have a slumber party, I'm telling you both that he'll be here. If you don't wanna see him, then you two can get a fucking hotel room and spend the whole weekend bitching about us, but like it or not, he's coming. He wants to see Erin, he wants to see Peg, and I want to spend time with a guy who's incredibly important to me, and that's that!" Then he turns on his heel and storms out of the room. A cabinet door slams shut in the kitchen followed by a glass clattering on the counter.

After a long moment, Hawkeye meets Margaret's gaze. Tight as his chest is with indignation at BJ's rant, the three of them have been together long enough for him to recognize real explosive anger as opposed to a temper tantrum because Beej isn't getting his way. "Well, what do you think?"

Margaret pinches her lips into a thin line before returning her focus to her anatomy textbook. "Hotel prices have been going up recently," she observes.

He reads her loud and clear. He switches to his other foot with a heavy sigh. "San Francisco, get ready for Hurricane Leo."

It's not about them being rude, BJ thinks while he's scrubbing the bathtub within an inch of its life with his remaining frustration. It's them being in cahoots again. It used to be just BJ and Hawkeye who were on the same wavelength, able to anticipate the other's words or actions, always teeing each other up for a hole-in-one. But sometime over the course of the past couple of years, that's shifted. It snuck up on him. One day he was sitting at the breakfast table and Hawkeye drawled out a joke as he was setting omelets in front of everyone, and the next thing he knew, Margaret had been the one to jump in with an answer that had Hawk all but rolling on the floor while he cackled. It happened again. Again. It hasn't stopped. It's annoying.

Suddenly he jams his finger. "Fuck!" He drops the sponge and rubs the digit carefully, surprised to hear how out of breath he is. He might actually have a sore arm tomorrow. But the tub's never looked cleaner, so it's worth the pain. He's going to have a picture perfect house with no stress, no anger, no passive aggression, just a flawless representation of the peculiar life he's landed in.

In a way, Leo really is his barometer for how strange something is. The divorce was bizarre enough. When a drunken BJ had called Leo long-distance in the middle of the night to mourn his marriage officially being over, there had been a long moment before Leo asked quite sincerely exactly how many he'd had. It had taken BJ until that moment to realize that he hadn't actually told Leo what was going on, that he'd gotten all the way to signing the papers and custody agreement before ever pulling Leo into the loop.

"BJ?"

"What?" he snaps without so much as a glance. Normally Margaret's voice is as lovely as a sunset to him, but she's currently tied for the role of the last person he wants to see.

She huffs. "You could at least look at me."

BJ throws down his sponge, then whips around to scowl at her. "I'm very busy right now preparing our home to be clean, beautiful, and welcoming for my upcoming house guest, and since I'm going to be taking care of it all on my own, I don't exactly have time to chat and gossip."

Margaret's jaw drops. A certain fire blazes in her gaze, one that he's familiar with but that he's seen directed primarily at Hawkeye. "You..."

"Me." BJ stands to his full height and crosses his arms.

As she narrows her eyes, he prepares himself for shouting, things being thrown, maybe even some spontaneous grappling, but all she does is square her jaw, then reply quietly. "For your information, I was coming to tell you that we will be in attendance while your friend is here. I wanted to offer you a helping hand."

The air is practically punched out of him.

"But! Since you've got everything under control, buster, you can go right ahead and clean your ass off all by yourself." And then she storms away, leaving him no room to speak. It's just as well, given that a cat has devoured his tongue.

He did it again. He let his righteous fury lead the way. With a slow, deep breath, BJ closes his eyes. "Damn," he whispers. It's true that they treated him shoddily first, but for Christ's sake, he loves them. He loves them and he wants them to know it no matter how frustrated they might sometimes be with one another.

In the distance, their front door slams. Then the office door's tell-tale squeaky hinges make themselves known before it closes as well.

BJ has a lot to do in a short amount of time. It's important for him to have their home ready for visitors. But Margaret and Hawkeye will always be more important than cleaning.

Without wasting another moment, BJ tosses the sponge in the tub, then goes for his car keys and wallet.

When BJ returns home, their second car is once more in the driveway. Margaret is back from wherever she went, then. BJ sets out to find both of his lovers for a spontaneous dinner party of mutually eaten crow.

He tosses the keys on the table inside the front door and fights the urge to sneeze. He doubts Margaret would appreciate any snot on her peace offering.

It takes him a moment to locate them. They're not in the living room. They're not studying in the office. They're not in their personal bedrooms, nor BJ's, which they all typically sleep together in if neither Hawkeye nor Margaret are feeling the need for alone time. Finally he heads downstairs, hears a hyena cackling outside, then rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Why the hell did it take him this long to figure it out? Of course they're on the back patio. Neither of them can stay cooped up for very long without going a bit loony.

BJ freezes at the sliding glass door, taking in the scene. They've eschewed the table under the umbrella, choosing instead to sprawl out on the lounge chairs. Margaret has a beer as well as her anatomy textbook while Hawk has curled up on his side with a stack of flash cards in one hand. The other has reached across the divide to grab Margaret's forearm as though she'll run away if he doesn't hold on.

For just a second, he feels that squeeze too right on his wrist, so tight that his skin will turn the palest white in the shape of Hawk's grip when he finally lets go.

It's been a while.

It doesn't matter.

One slow, deep breath through his nose. A smile. And then he lets himself out.

They don't notice him at first. Margaret murmurs something that sets Hawkeye off all over again, that big and beautiful laugh that BJ fell in love with immediately, the one that always brings the sun out from behind the clouds. There's a flash of a memory—bringing Hawkeye a mug of coffee at the entrance of a cave, finding him clinging to Margaret in fear, watching Hawk immediately pass the beverage to her without so much as a sip—and a vice tightens in his chest.

Hawk turns his head, catches sight of BJ, and lets his laughter die out, leaving a grin behind. "Oh, welcome home. Buy yourself something nice?"

BJ shoots him a very patient closed-mouth smile of his own. "Not quite."

Margaret doesn't so much as turn to see him, which works out because she has no warning before a lush bouquet of daisies suddenly appears before her. She gasps. Once she takes it from BJ, she looks up at him with wide eyes, lips parted. "BJ, they're beautiful."

At least he can do one thing right. "I shouldn't have snapped at you," he murmurs, then leans down to offer her a kiss, which she accepts, her lips so soft and warm under his. "I'm sorry."

"I should have been kinder," she counters. She cups his cheek and thumbs over his stubble. "I'm sorry too."

"Hey!" Hawkeye flops onto Margaret's chair, kicking her textbook to the patio and ignoring her squawk of indignation as she nearly falls off as well. He bats his eyelashes at BJ. "Goody goody, what else did you bring?"

BJ's internal vice begins to open up again. "Why would I have brought anything else? Wait, wait, what am I saying? You're right, Margaret does deserve even more presents."

While Margaret is preening, Hawk slaps BJ's arm. "Aw, c'mon, don't play cute with me. What'd you bring me?"

BJ leans down and drops his voice. "Why don't you say the magic words first and then we'll see what appears?"

"Meanie." Hawkeye sticks out his tongue. But when BJ makes a show of turning to go back inside, Hawk whines. "All right, all right, fine. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" BJ asks sweetly.

"Sorry that what I said made you mad."

BJ smirks. "Try again, darling."

Hawk rolls his eyes, then looks to Margaret for help. When none is forthcoming—she even sticks out her tongue at him—he meets BJ's gaze. "Okay, so I was a little bit of a bitch."

"Mm-hmm?" He's not convinced of his sincerity, but at least he's more amused than earlier.

"I'm sorry for running my mouth so much when I could see you were getting upset, how about that?"

It's the best that BJ's going to get. He finally offers the long, slim box he's had behind his back. "Voila."

"Ah!" Hawk beams. "Now, what have we here?" He rubs his hands together in anticipation before he lifts the lid. "Ohh, a colorful noose! I love when you threaten me, Beej. Really gets me off."

"Ha ha," BJ drawls. His cheeks warm against his will as Hawkeye holds up the tie. It's a deep navy blue with thick diagonal stripes the same icy shade as Hawk's irises. As BJ suspected, the fabric brings out that brilliant shine even more. "I thought it'd look nice on you." Hawk isn't exactly jumping for joy.

"Well, how do we know if we don't try it out?" Hawk asks.

Margaret takes it from him before BJ can move his hand. "So let's see."

Instead of just standing there like window dressing, BJ might as well be useful. He clears his throat. "Another beer?"

"That would be wonderful." Margaret cocks her head, keeping her attention on her fingers. As BJ walks inside, he wonders if Margaret ever had so much as the opportunity to do that for her ex-husband or if this is the rare first experience that he and Hawkeye gave her many months ago when they moved in together.

When BJ returns, not only is the tie in place, but Margaret is tucking one of her daisies behind Hawkeye's ear. "Beautiful," she murmurs huskily. Hawkeye strikes a little pose with pursed, pouty lips that Margaret chuckles at as she adjusts his fringe so it falls a little more in his eyes. Then she tugs his tie. "Let me borrow this sometime?"

"Of course!" Hawkeye caresses the daisy petals of her bouquet, then breathes in their scent. "What's mine is yours to steal."

Feeling flushed and a little off-footed, BJ decides that he'll wait until sometime later to deal with his slight confusion over if he actually brought them the right gifts or not.

BJ has only one kitchen counter left to scrub when he hears heavy, clunky steps coming down the stairs. "Shit," he whispers, immediately throwing the light switch off.

"Beej?"

Too late. BJ lifts a hand, but pulls it back right as he remembers that he probably shouldn't rub his eyes when he has cleaning solution all over his fingers. "In here, Hawk."

"Midnight snack?" But when Hawkeye turns the lights back on, he freezes, then regards BJ's guilty expression. "Beej."

"I'm almost done."

Hawkeye squints at the clock on the wall. "Baby, it's three in the morning."

"I know."

"His flight's supposed to land at noon."

"I know." BJ puts his hands on his hips. "Really, it's only gonna take me another five minutes."

"Then you can do it tomorrow," Hawkeye murmurs patiently, that tone which is part excellent bedside manner, part warning that he'll be taking the kid gloves off soon. When he reaches for BJ, he twists to avoid it at first, but relents when Hawk tries again, letting him tug at his elbow. He fights not to give into that soothing touch, the urge to let someone else take over. "Beeeeeej..."

BJ tries to pull on an unbothered expression as he spins toward him. "Listen, I had a lot to do this week and I fell a little behind on getting everything done—"

"And you have two live-in, able-bodied servants who you could have delegated any number of tasks to." Hawkeye slides his arms around BJ's neck and presses their bare chests together.

BJ's cheeks flame. "Well, it's not like I was gonna interrupt precious studying time."

"You're so cute when you're being self-sacrificing," Hawkeye drawls with a grin.

"And you'd know nothing about that, would you?" But he softens the sarcasm by holding him around the waist.

"Here's the thing. You listening?"

Though his jaw tightens, BJ nods. He can try, at least.

"Okay." Hawkeye busses their noses together—a low blow, something that Hawk knows will make BJ melt—and gives him a warm smile. "Everything is already perfect. Ah-ah, no, close your mouth and let me finish. We already clean all of the counters once a week. We're not exactly talking about two months of grime here. So if Bardonaro walks in and has so much as a single rude word to say about anything in our home, I'll give him a knuckle sandwich. How about that?"

BJ can't stop his lips from quirking. "Mr. Pacifist, you astound me."

"Everything goes out the window when it comes to you."

"Flatterer," BJ murmurs, then steals a lingering kiss.

After a slow inhale through his nose, Hawk lets out a quiet moan. "C'mon, come back to bed."

"I'm not having sex with you at three in the morning," he says as sweetly as he can. Even if it wasn't a recipe for BJ getting no sleep at all, Margaret would kill them for waking her up.

"Puritan," Hawkeye fires back, not only making BJ laugh but beginning to loosen the tension in his chest. "Why's everything need to be perfect for Bardonaro anyway? You two lived in a frat house. Anything's gotta be better than that."

The question should be simple to answer, but it's mired with brambles. Nothing attached to his life pre-Korea is easy anymore. "I don't know," he quietly hedges. But if that was true, his heart wouldn't suddenly be racing.

Though Hawkeye is notoriously impatient when it comes to unanswered questions, he's been trying too. He takes his twitchiness and redirects it to the abandoned sponge, which he begins scrubbing the final counter with. "Well, uh, you, you just think about that for as long as you need. I mean, is it something to do with us?"

"No," BJ blurts, then reevaluates. "Well..."

"Ahh. How about me? Me with Bardonaro?"

"No, no, it's not specifically you or Margaret." BJ heaves a sigh. "Look, this'll be the first time Leo's come to visit since everything changed."

"Ah-huh! Oh, I see, that makes sense." Hawk keeps his eyes on the counter. Usually it's Margaret who's concerned about everything being spick-and-span. It's a nice change. "So you traded for a different model and now you've gotta make a good impression."

"Could you maybe not refer to the whole situation like we're talking about cars?" A dullness spreads through BJ's limbs. "My wife wanted a divorce. You and Margaret held me together. My life blew up and a new one had to start whether I liked it or not." He's adjusted by now. Really, he has. Peg had made it perfectly clear that she still cared for him as a dear friend and that it was important to her that he always be able to see Erin whenever he wished. But he can't be flippant about it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

For a long moment, Hawkeye is silent. "Sorry, Beej."

BJ waves him off. It's not Hawk's fault that in order for BJ to have one of his greatest secret desires come true—a life where he never has to be apart from either him or Margaret—he had to have another one snatched from his grasp. In fact, if they hadn't been there, he's not sure he would have survived. "I-I just... Leo was my best man for a reason. He and Peg weren't quite as close as us, but very nearly. We did so much together during college."

"The Three Musketeers," Hawkeye suggests.

"Exactly." BJ crosses his arms and stares at his feet. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really want him to see I'm doing well. I don't want him to worry."

Hawkeye huffs. "He worries about you?" Sarcasm drips from his words.

BJ pins Hawk with a razor glare. "You knew him for an hour. I've known him for nearly fifteen years. Yes. He worries."

"All right, all right." With the counter cleaned, Hawkeye tosses the sponge in the sink. He turns, sees BJ stiffening, then hums in understanding as he whips back around, rinses the sponge, then places it in its proper holder to dry. It turns out that cats can be trained. "Y'know, I don't think you have anything to worry about. I mean, are you happy?"

"Of course I am," BJ says without a moment to think.

"Then he'll see that. And unless you already put itching powder in his sheets, then nothing's gonna be out of the ordinary." Hawkeye puts his hands on the counter on either side of BJ, boxing him in. His beautiful, remarkable face is so kissable that BJ can hardly stand it. "Look, Margaret and I are gonna behave. All you have to do is have a good time with your...friend."

BJ's lips twitch. "Thank you, darling."

"I refuse to call him your best friend."

"You're looking a little green there, Mr. Jealousy."

"Shut up," Hawk mutters good-naturedly. "Rile me up too much, and I don't care how bad you need sleep, your virtue'll be in danger tonight. I've gotta put my mark on you somehow."

"I'll allow you one prescribed hickey. Medically necessary."

With a groan, Hawkeye nibbles on his neck, shooting sparks down BJ's spine. He laves his hot tongue over his skin before sucking nice and hard, searingly possessive. BJ's legs nearly buckle. He's rapidly forgetting why he shouldn't throw himself at Hawkeye this very second. He's missed him. He and Margaret have been so busy.

BJ slides his fingers into the longer hair at the nape of his neck, then takes a shaky breath. "Hey, really quickly before you turn my brain into stew."

"Mmm?"

Fuck, he loves the way that Hawkeye's voice rumbles. He shivers. "There's no itching powder. But, uh, don't use the shower in the guest bathroom 'til he's gone, huh?"

"Mm-hmm..."

He can hear the smirk in his voice. He knew that would get him going.

The moment the clock hits 12:45 p.m.—fifteen minutes before Leo is due to arrive—BJ is magnetized to the front door. The more things change, et cetera.

"Beej, you're making me dizzy," Hawk calls from the living room when BJ jumps up at the sound of yet another car passing by. "Can we stop the ride? I wanna get off."

"Ha." BJ doesn't dignify his wisecracking with another response. Still not Leo's taxi, damn it.

When he swings back through, Margaret grabs him by the wrist. "If you knew you were going to be this...this agitated, then why didn't you meet him at the airport?"

"Because that would've looked too needy," Hawk snarks.

"This isn't needy?" Margaret counters.

BJ pulls out of her grasp, stung. "Have either of you never missed somebody before? You know, Margaret, I saw you when your dad was coming to visit. You're really calling that kettle black, don't you think?"

She frowns. "That's different."

"Is it? You sure about that?"

Margaret huffs, sitting back and sinking into the sofa. But before BJ can rush to the door, she murmurs, "Well, I can't deny that your loyalty is an incredibly attractive trait."

BJ stops on a dime. "Yeah?" Embarrassing as always, a butterfly takes flight in his chest.

"Mm. So is your earnestness." Margaret favors him with one of those suggestive smirks that used to send BJ running for a cold shower.

He's always been weak for her whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not. He can't stop himself from flicking his gaze over her body, clothed in a comfortable blouse and trousers that play well against her pale skin and her freshly dyed platinum locks. For a moment BJ forgets all about the clock, settles instead for sauntering across the room and leaning over her with a hand on the back of the couch. "So why the hell are you busting my balls?" he teases, voice rough at the edges.

Margaret tips her head. A lock of hair brushes over her neck and draws his gaze like an eagle. "Maybe I don't like to share."

Just as Margaret is reaching for his tie—his breath catches in anticipation of her wrapping it around her fist and pulling him right where she wants him—Hawkeye lands on the couch and props his chin up with his fist, grinning. BJ fights back a chuckle. The last thing Hawkeye needs is encouragement. "Can I help you?" BJ drawls.

"Well, I mean, if you two are gonna fuck like rabbits right here on the couch, I think I've earned a front-row seat, don't you?" His dark lashes dip, bringing out the sultriness of his stare. "I wasn't expecting you to arrange for Bardonaro to walk in on it, but hey, I'm not gonna complain as long as I get a show too."

With a snort, BJ cups the back of both of their heads, kissing Margaret's cheek first, then the tip of Hawkeye's nose, inundated with fondness. "Y'know, someday we're gonna have to call Sidney and ask him if there's a psychological reason why you're always in the mood, sweetheart," he teases.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hawkeye squawks, sitting up, hyperbolically indignant. "What do you mean, why am I always in the mood? I love you, you big lug! What about it?"

As it always does, that sentiment takes his breath away. He's never been able to figure out why both Margaret and Hawkeye are so sparing with their declarations of love. It's not as though they don't enjoy his company—he might've worried about that initially, but their steadfastness and how often they've gone out of their way to spend time with him has shown him exactly how much they like being together—but for whatever reason, these are words that he has to cherish when they come because he's never sure when the next time will arrive.

Pulled in, magnetized to their lips, BJ can't stop himself from kissing them both, drinking up their sighs, shivering when Margaret tangles her fingers through his hair. He goes from one to the other, back and forth, so desperate to show them how much he aches for them, how he doesn't have favorites, how they never have to feel as though they are competing with one another for his time. Hawkeye has only just grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer when the sound of squeaky brakes comes to a stop.

"Fuck," BJ whispers. Beautiful timing as always, Leo. Here BJ is getting their undivided attention finally without a single textbook to be seen and he has to give it up to be an excellent host. When he tries to pull back, both Hawkeye and Margaret hold firm, gazing at him with heated blue eyes that invite him to drown in them, and BJ groans as he steals one more kiss each. "Later. Later, I promise. Don't, don't forget, all right?"

"I'd forget my own name before I forget how much I want you," Margaret murmurs huskily.

She really can't just say things like that. BJ feels like a schoolboy again, lecturing his body strictly on not getting hard just because his crush smiled at him in the cafeteria or something. He strokes her cheek and allows himself to linger for one moment more, then growls and pulls away to go for the door. He pretends not to notice how Hawkeye immediately yanked Margaret right back in. Fine, let them neck like a couple of teenagers if they want. It's nothing Leo hasn't seen before back when... Well. Back then.

With a quick glance through the door's peephole, BJ verifies that there is in fact a lanky giant coming up the front walk with a suitcase in hand. The nerves that rush through him send bubbles through his blood like soda pop. BJ gives himself one last look in the vestibule's mirror—Christ, he looks nice and debauched, all swollen lips and flushed cheeks and messy hair, and that was only from a good twenty seconds of making out—and once he's as put together as he's going to get, he takes a deep breath and opens the door.

The moment Leo sees him, he breaks out in a sunny grin. "Yo!"

BJ can't stop himself from meeting him on the step and pulling him into a bear hug. "Hey, hey, welcome back to California!" Leo drops his suitcase and sweeps BJ into his arms, almost lifting him right off his feet. "Jesus, you really don't get sun in Philly, do you?" BJ teases. He steps back and pats Leo on the cheek with an audible slap. "I'd say we've gotta get you to the beach while you're here, but your pasty body'll give off so much glare, you might blind a few boaters. I can't be responsible for those accidents."

"Sweet talker," Leo fires back, beaming. "Easier ways to get my clothes off, Beej, you know that."

BJ laughs because it's better than blushing and letting Leo think he's flustered him, just like the good ol' days at Stanford. "All right, come in, come in, what're you waiting for?" He tugs his wrist to get him to follow inside. The moment they step through the door, he takes a deep breath. Calm. He can do this. There's no one here he has to impress, just...just needs to show Leo that he's doing well. Better than well, even.

He loses his mental footing when he realizes that Margaret and Hawkeye are still sprawled on the couch rather than having come to meet Leo at the door. Well, that's, that's fine, of course, it's BJ's hospitality that matters, not theirs. "Here, your, uh..." BJ gestures to the little line of shoes in the vestibule so he can add his massive clown shoes to it—honestly, BJ gets so much flack for his huge feet when Leo could house entire colonies of mice in his footwear. He takes advantage of Leo's distraction and grabs his suitcase so he can bring it to the guest room for him.

"Hey, that's nice." Leo brushes BJ's neck with his pointer finger, bringing him to a sudden stop. Like a dog trying to catch his tail, BJ cocks his head as though he'd be able to see whatever Leo's referencing. "Who gave you this one, huh?"

"Uh, that would belong to Benjamin Franklin Hawkeye Pierce," Hawk drawls as he finally gets to his feet, coming toward them with a smirk and a hint of danger in his gaze. "Maybe you've heard of me."

The hickey. They're referring to the hickey. BJ rubs it, wishing as he often does that he could feel it like a brand, any of these claiming marks that his lovers leave on him.

Leo laughs brightly. "Of course I remember you, Pierce!" Without hesitating, Leo comes in for a hug, not stopping even when Hawk stiffens like a board. "How's Daniel, huh?"

Hawk's upper lip curls, but he has it smoothed out again by the time Leo finally lets him go. "Oh, well, y'know, he's fine. Good. Perfect, even. You, uh, you remember him?"

"I told you I'd call him, didn't I?" Leo pinches Hawk's cheek, his grin widening when Hawkeye steps out of his reach. "I think we talked, what, an hour or two? Really lovely fellow."

BJ immediately recognizes the tight expression Hawkeye wears even though his thin-lipped smile stays in place. Mildly possessive. Guarded. BJ can't even say anything to get his dander back down. Leo might have a PhD in being a prick sometimes, but he has the unfortunate tendency to endear himself to the exact people that one would hate for him to get along with. Hell, BJ's shocked that Daniel hasn't outright adopted Leo as a second son, given how much Hawk dislikes him.

Once she joins them, Margaret holds out her hand. "Margaret Houlihan."

BJ watches Leo take her in. He can practically hear the calculations being run behind his gaze. "Margaret, huh?" Leo shakes her hand gently. "Beautiful name. Pretty nicknames for it too. Anybody ever call you Daisy?"

She simply says, "No." She takes control of the handshake, grip tightening right away, and Leo allows it without hesitation while his eyes gleam. "We welcome you into our home and hope that you enjoy your time here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to."

Hawkeye links elbows with her. "I'll join you."

"Oh, well, then my productivity is assured," she drawls, and just like that they're disappearing into the office before BJ can so much as begin to panic.

This isn't how it was supposed to go. They're supposed to help BJ entertain Leo, keep BJ buoyed if he starts to flag at all. He's not used to doing this as a solo. From the very beginning, Peg had...

Oh. Right.

Another slow deep breath. Everything's fine. It's okay that it's different. Nothing's going to go wrong. They're going to have fun, fun, fun, or else.

BJ elbows Leo. "C'mon, let me show you to your room." He leads the way down the hall, trying not to think too hard about the sudden burst of laughter that comes from inside the closed office.

They've scarcely entered the bedroom before Leo shuts the door and leans against it. "So. Margaret?"

They're not going to talk about this. "She was there with us at the 4077th. Really incredible nurse, you know?" BJ sets Leo's suitcase down on the bed, then reaches to smooth out a fold in the blanket. "You didn't get to meet her. It's funny. The whole reason she wasn't really around was because she was trying to orchestrate some way to get to Tokyo and find her then-husband and break the bed."

"She's lovely," Leo continues as though BJ hadn't spoken at all. "The blonde suits her. Plays nice against her blue eyes."

BJ whirls around to face him. "Don't. Okay?"

Leo gives BJ one of those long, analyzing stares, lips curved upward, completely unbothered and unthreatened. It's a piercing kind of look, the sort that made him such an effective student. Reading between the lines. Picking and choosing his battles. This is the thing about Leo. Letting him in, giving him a glimpse of how dramatically BJ's life has changed since they last saw one another in Korea, it's dangerous. He has the ability to peer beneath BJ's surface, find the sore spots, and rub them until they rise to the top and BJ finally stops avoiding them and starts fixing them. Almost no one else in his life can do so with such calculated ease.

Finally Leo lifts his hands in silent acceptance and BJ lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His tendency to fall in love with assertive blonde women named Margaret seems to be set aside for another day. "Think she likes me about as much as your boy toy."

"They like you fine," BJ lies.

Leo quirks a brow. "Beej."

The tone is so similar to how Hawkeye will refer to him that he almost loses his mental footing. He doesn't have to think about that either. "Is it my fault that no one else can see your winning personality?" BJ asks sarcastically.

"You're supposed to sweeten them up for me," Leo counters with a grin.

BJ prods him in the chest. "Well, maybe if you hadn't been the reason why I almost ended up in front of a firing squad, Hawkeye would be a bigger fan of you."

Unbothered, Leo simply shrugs and brushes past him to open his suitcase so he can begin to unpack. "I'll try to schedule my next orgy for when I'm back in Philly. Taking all the fun out of visiting California." He clicks his tongue. Tsk-tsk-tsk.

"Not under my name, I hope."

Leo glances over his shoulder, looking like a trickster of some kind. "You know, I missed you, Beej," he says rather than committing one way or the other.

It's unexpected, the fact that Leo just came out and said it like that. He's not sure why. It really has been too long since they saw each other if BJ's off-footed by Leo's random moments of sentimentality. BJ used to be much more familiar with them, could match him step by step. Now he's so attuned to Hawkeye's rhythm that he can feel himself tripping over his own metaphorical shoelaces while trying to readapt to someone else's. He settles for clapping Leo on the back and rubbing circles over his bony spine. "Go take a shower. You're sweaty as hell."

"Ahh, now that's the kind of romance that must've gotten your sweeties in bed." Leo rams his shoulder into BJ's breastbone and sends him stumbling back a few steps. "Your extremely veiled hint has been heard. Point me where I need to go." He turns with his bag of toiletries in hand.

BJ fights the urge to rub his hands together, simply jerking his head toward the hallway. "Last door on the left. It's all yours." But for a moment longer, he lingers. He's not sure when they'll get quiet moments like this together again while he's here. "It's good to see you too," he murmurs.

Leo's grin widens. He cups the back of BJ's head and bumps their foreheads together like a cat, then continues on his way without another word.

Five minutes later, BJ is in the kitchen, pouring four glasses of lemonade, humming senselessly to himself. There are footsteps behind him. He wipes the smile off his face as quick as he can, then glances over his shoulder.

Leo is in the doorway, of course, in nothing but a towel knotted around his waist. This is not the part that's supposed to shock him. It's the fact that his face and upper body are a deep shade of pink as though he were sunburned. His hair even looks like it could be dripping blood.

BJ puts a hand on his chest with a gasp. "Leo, are you all right? I should've warned you about the water. It gets so hot, you know?"

Leo flicks his tongue out and catches a droplet as it courses down his cheek. "Never told me your water's cherry-flavored," he says, gaze sparking, smirk turning more dangerous by the second.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," BJ replies slowly, as aghast as anyone could be.

Slowly, slowly, Leo approaches him, Kool-Aid-stained footprints following him along the linoleum floor. He towers over BJ, the only person who's ever really done so since he hit his full adult height. Cocks his head. Narrows his eyes. "So this is how it's gonna be, huh, Beej?"

There's no fighting the glee that bursts inside of BJ. It must be written all over his face. "Well, how else was I supposed to welcome you home, pal?"

He chuckles as he shakes his head at BJ's audacity. "All right. I see how it is." He runs his fingers through his hair, then lightly slaps BJ's cheek and hurries off before he can react, leaving a bright pink handprint in his wake.

The night is surprisingly uneventful. Hawkeye and Margaret go out for dinner, so BJ cooks himself and Leo a simple meal—pasta, broccoli, chicken, all mixed in a cream sauce, the kind of recipe he's incapable of messing up—and they catch up on basic ins and outs of their lives, like how Leo's parents are doing. They retire in front of the TV and watch a couple of shows. Hawkeye and Margaret are still not home by the time they're finished. When Leo begs off a game of cards, pointing out how long and tiring his flight was that day, BJ lets him be. He stays up and reads for a good hour in the soft, cozy chair by the bookshelves in the office. Still Margaret and Hawkeye are gone.

They don't make it back until BJ's curled up in bed alone, staring at the wall. They're giggling as they walk together, their slightly slurred words and shuffling footsteps telling him that they must've spent the rest of their evening at a bar, the kind of place BJ really can't let himself go into anymore without risking that he'll black out—he can't remember the last time he touched booze. The desire for it scratches on the inside of his skull, but...he can't. Not right now. Not after everything that still haunts him in his dreams.

Margaret pulls Hawkeye into her bedroom. They had quite a night, then. It's not the first time that two of them have sought some time alone together—BJ will claim one of them for himself for the evening frequently too—but this is the time when it aches the most. His bed is too giant. Too empty. He misses them like he would a pair of limbs.

With a huff, BJ replaces his pillow with Hawkeye's, then pulls Margaret's close so he can hug it and bury his face in the sweet-smelling pillowcase. It takes longer than he'd like, but eventually he's lulled to sleep with their scents right under his nose.

BJ gets up early the next morning to make breakfast, a smattering of eggs and bacon and toast for everyone. Leo's the only one who comes to the kitchen right off the bat, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in a way that's almost insulting given how heavy the bags feel under BJ's eyes. To his credit, Leo claims the honor of doing the dishes since BJ cooked, so BJ heads back upstairs to grab a shower himself. He very carefully checks every nook and cranny of the stall, even running the water before getting in so he can make sure that nothing insidious is going to come out of the shower head. But there's nothing. Paranoia, that's all. Just because BJ threw down a gauntlet doesn't mean Leo feels particularly inclined to hit him back.

It's when he goes to get dressed that he realizes that all of his underwear is missing. And somehow he knows instantly what has happened.

BJ hurries downstairs in his bathrobe, sparing Leo little more than a glare before he throws the freezer open, and sure enough, there they are, every single damn pair of his boxers neatly folded and frozen solid. There's no way in hell that he can go without them if they're exploring San Francisco at any point today. Margaret and Hawkeye have both told him effusively—happily, even—how he risks breaking obscenity laws when he's walking around with proper support and well-fitted trousers. Not wearing any at all? Absolutely not an option.

He shuts the freezer. "One question. How the hell did you get that done so fast?"

Leo looks over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin. "Do you know how deeply you get into the reading zone? Nothing's changed since college. Didn't even notice me walking past the office or hitting that creaky step when I was heading up."

"Bastard," BJ breathes with a certain kind of adrenalized delight swelling in his chest.

Once BJ has his frozen underwear set in the shower to thaw out—he's going to have to remember to throw them in the dryer later, isn't he—there is only one course of action, and that's to steal a pair from Hawkeye.

The two of them are still in Margaret's room, probably dozing, enjoying a rare opportunity for a lie-in. Which is fine. It's good that they're getting the rest they need. He doesn't mind at all. Anyway, it makes it easy for him to get to Hawkeye's chest of drawers without disturbing them, so that's a win all around. BJ pulls out his top drawer, which is unsurprisingly in a hell of a state, everything unfolded and mixed together. Except when BJ takes a simple pair of gray boxers, something dark red and gleaming catches his attention at the very back of the drawer. Curious, he pulls it all the way out, then stops breathing. There are five pairs of silky panties, carefully folded, tucked away.

BJ's never seen Hawkeye in them. Because they surely must be Hawk's, right? Margaret wouldn't have any reason to store her clothes in here. It's not like she has to travel across town to see him and thus would keep some basics in Hawk's space. She could simply walk to her own bedroom any time she needs a fresh set of clothes. So Hawkeye owns panties. Apparently wears panties. Without even trying, BJ imagines Hawk's slim hips and soft thighs on either side of skimpy red panties, how they would cradle his small, soft cock, and the rush of heat through BJ is so extreme that he slams the drawer shut.

Hawkeye wears panties. Hawkeye who showed so much interest in Margaret's flowers as opposed to the tie that BJ bought him. Who looked so lovely with the daisy tucked behind his ear, the white standing out electrically against his black hair. He waits for a sense of confusion to hit him. It doesn't come. He stands there for a silent ten seconds, staring at the drawer, and it still doesn't arrive. And when he probes his brain to get a reaction out of it, all he can think is, Hawkeye is Hawkeye. He's always been outside of the box. That's the reason BJ fell in love with him at "Heart and Seoul."

The only thought that does actually plague him is, does Margaret know? And the sharp twisting in his chest makes him discard it immediately. It doesn't matter if she does or not. Margaret, who steals BJ's shirts to sleep in, who eschews dresses or skirts, who likes the pops of color that a tie will bring to her outfits even if she keeps them mostly tucked out of sight.

BJ has a lot to think about. Preferably when he is not the only person in this entire building who is entertaining their house guest. So he leaves the notions behind and returns to his bedroom to change into his clothes for the day.

Leo stands at the foot of the stairs when BJ finally descends them. "Truce?" He smiles.

Because he simply does not have the energy to keep up a running series of pranks while also making sure Leo's visit goes off without a hitch, he nods. "Truce."

Leo gives the back of his neck a squeeze, cooling some of the nerves inside of him, then leads them toward the back patio so they can enjoy the sun together for a while.

By the third day, BJ's pretty sure he understands the game that's being played. Not with Leo, but with Margaret and Hawkeye. He tells himself that it can't be entirely purposeful. After all, BJ is the only one who actually took time off from work for Leo's visit, and as for Margaret, she has enough on her plate with medical school in addition to her nursing shifts. Even still, they are conveniently absent from most meals, socializing, and even BJ's bed. They've been spending quite a lot of time in their own rooms.

Honestly, it's that last part that keeps tripping him up. It's as though they're expecting BJ to have a need for the entire bed all to himself. If they gave him the chance, he'd love to explain that whatever intense, exploratory trysts that he and Leo once had all came to a very purposeful halt once BJ and Peg became engaged, but he can't because he has no idea what he'd say if they asked whether he was going to rendezvous with Leo while he's here or not.

The more that BJ tries to picture himself making a potential move on Leo, though, the harder the mental wall that he slams into becomes. Frankly there is a reason why he was so stunned when he realized back in Korea that his ache for both Hawkeye and Margaret was threatening to overwhelm him. He'd meant it when he told Hawkeye that he never had been tempted by another person while he was with Peg. He doesn't count Carrie as a temptation per se if only because his draw to her had been neither romantic nor even sexual. She had been someone who needed to be saved for one evening. How the hell was he supposed to turn away from that when he was a healer to the core?

No, it was first Hawkeye and then Margaret who shook him so deeply. He hadn't just wanted them in his bed. He'd felt so desperate to court them, really and truly, flowers and candlelit dates and giving them every bit of support that a husband could. And that had terrified him because before them, he had always been a one-woman monogamous guy. They'd thrown everything into disarray long before Peg asked if they could have that fateful discussion.

Leo isn't like that. He's never been like that. He wasn't then and he isn't now. Regardless of how unique their friendship has always been or their strange level of chemistry, neither of them have made any romantic advances on the other and they never will.

But even if there was a spark there, BJ would have no desire to chase it. He's happy. Fuck, he's happy in a way that he feared he might have lost forever. So if that's the reason why neither of his lovers have extended an olive twig, much less a branch—them scheming to let BJ and Leo hook up one last time—then he has a few things to say about it. Because the only other reason they could be avoiding them is that they have no interest in even trying to get to know BJ's friends, to be in that part of his life. And that would make his blood boil.

The problem is that once BJ gets a thought in his head, he wears down until it's dust. So if by day three he's become suspicious, then by day four, he wakes up ready for a fight.

In hindsight, maybe BJ should've known that day four would be a tricky one. After all, Leo and Peg are still incredibly good friends. Their years of spending time together didn't suddenly disappear when her wedding band came off and BJ didn't expect for it to. He's still Uncle Leo to Erin. Of course he would make time in his schedule to go and see them for lunch, even though BJ begs off with a guilty pit in his gut. Turning down an opportunity to see Erin is always a crime after how long he was forced to be away from her, but she's coming over for the weekend once Leo heads back to Philly and she really needs to experience face-to-face time with her uncle—who knows the next time his own schedule will open up enough to come back through?

This is an easy excuse. A safety net for why he doesn't want to sit at the head of a dining table that isn't his with a woman who isn't his sitting at the other far end while Leo tickles Erin and makes her giggle and keeps her distracted from finishing her food. He doesn't have to play a sick game of house. He doesn't have to set himself up for a shitty night with ghosts and demons wrapping themselves around him.

Leo's taxi hasn't been gone for more than fifteen seconds when Margaret comes to find BJ. "There you are," she murmurs, her lovely full lips shaped in an unpainted, beautiful smile. She straddles him right there on the couch and rakes her nails through his hair as she steals a long, hungry kiss from him, one that has him holding onto her hips for dear life. "You know, I've missed you."

"I've been right here all week," he points out quietly. He tucks a finger in her back belt loop. He doesn't understand why it's so sexy to see Margaret in a pair of more masculine trousers, but a twinge of heat flares up inside of him when he gives the loop a tiny tug. "Could've come found me any time."

"Well." Margaret shrugs as she tilts her head. "You've been busy, haven't you?"

"Mm. So you could've come and been busy with me, couldn't you?" That heat is twisting around something inside his ribs, something that he really needs to pull back from before he runs his mouth in a way that he'll regret.

Margaret simply quirks a brow as though he said something that he knows is foolish, like she's waiting for him to double back and correct himself. He doesn't. He stares her right in the eye. He can wait far, far longer than Hawkeye can during moments like this.

Speaking of the devil, however, Hawkeye sweeps into the room looking like a kid in the candy store. "Oh, now I see what's holding you up." He curls up on the right side of BJ, sliding an arm around his waist and resting his chin on BJ's shoulder.

"Holding her up from what?" BJ asks. "More studying?"

He frowns at Margaret. "You didn't even ask him?"

"I was getting to it," she murmurs. When she begins to pull away, BJ presses down on the small of her back and keeps her right where she is.

"You think we have time to seduce him and get in a few good rounds of poker?" Hawkeye asks incredulously. "With how thorough we are?"

The thing in BJ's chest tightens. "Oh, is that what you two are doing today?"

"Only if you're doing it too." Hawkeye kisses his cheek, murmuring so his lips still brush his cheek. "C'mon, c'mon, I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

"I've been. Right. Here." His voice roughens at the edges.

"BJ," Margaret says softly, almost pleadingly.

Hawkeye, however, does not seem to hear the building anger. "Well, sure, but you've been here with Leo."

BJ takes a deep breath through his nose. He has only a few more opportunities to keep himself calm until he can step away and try to put his head back on straight. "Leo's a hell of a poker player. You'd know this if you'd spent time with us this week."

After a pause, Hawkeye chuckles. "No offense, Beej, but I'm really not interested in seeing how good a liar that guy is."

It's coming. It's building. BJ unceremoniously slides Margaret into Hawkeye's lap and flies to his feet, ignoring her shrill sound of indignation. "You've never had any problem with my bluffs before." He takes a couple of steps, looking around, seeking any excuse for why he has to leave the room.

"Yeah, but I actually like you. You're not as big of a jackass, you know?"

BJ barks a laugh because it's the kindest sound that he's able to make right now. "Ohoho, I see. So it was too much of a..." No, he needs to stop talking right fucking now. He's trying. He's trying. This isn't Korea where he had no way to distance himself from Hawkeye if he was upset with him. They own an entire goddamn house, mortgage or not. "I think I'm gonna catch up on some reading. You kids have fun." And he sweeps into the hallway.

He makes it a whole eight steps before Hawkeye comes thundering after him. "All right, Beej, what's the big idea?"

"Nothing," BJ lies. If he'll just leave it, then BJ can cool off and they can try this again later.

"Oh, sure," Hawkeye drawls. "You could cut diamonds with your jaw right now, but nooo, everything's just fine." He grabs BJ's wrist and turns him around. "Now, are you gonna tell me what's wrong or do I need to get out the rack?"

BJ holds up a hand. "Drop it. Okay? For once in your life, can you listen when I ask you to get your nose out of my business?"

Hawk's brows shoot up and his jaw drops. BJ almost feels bad. Almost. "Maybe I could if you'd get your nose out of the air and let us in without us having to hound you—"

"I'm telling you to leave it alone!" BJ bellows. Hawk drops his arm and retreats a step. It takes BJ a moment to realize that he's curled his own hands into tight fists. That alone makes his temperature begin to drop. "Hawk, I'm—"

"All right!" Margaret comes whipping in, angrier than a bull. "Hunnicutt, if you have something to say to him, then I refuse for you to leave me out of it."

His surname is like a slap in the face. "Don't. Call. Me that. This isn't the army. You don't outrank me. Use my fucking name."

She snarls, marching right up to him until their chests touch. "Well, maybe when you remember to use your words when you're upset, I'll remember to treat you like an equal."

It's his sudden need for personal space that makes him seize her by the shoulders, but before he can push her back a few inches, Hawkeye shoves himself between them, one hand on Margaret behind him. But his eyes are what give BJ real pause, that fiery blue, hotter than a burner. BJ can't tell if he's afraid. He doesn't want to find out.

"You don't need to protect me," Margaret grumbles. "There's nothing to protect me from."

Hawkeye doesn't reply to her. "Are we doing this?"

There's no way to stay quiet about it now. He swallows a knot in his throat. "Yeah."

"Here?"

"I don't care where." Since Leo won't be back for at least a couple of hours, they don't have to worry about a sudden audience.

After a moment, Hawk jerks his head toward the living room, then interlaces his fingers with Margaret's and walks off with her. BJ needs a few seconds more. He can't remember the last time Hawkeye reached for his hand.

As he comes to meet them with a thudding heart, he tries not to feel like a soldier returning to war. They love him. They might not say it very often, but he knows it. He has to believe it. He has to hope. God, please let him not have fucked this up. He can't lose his soulmates. He just can't.

Hawkeye stands by the couch, arms crossed. Margaret is at the window and looking out into their backyard. She keeps her back to them. When BJ meets Hawkeye's gaze, Hawk asks, "So how do you wanna do this?"

All the anger has been washed away by his anxiety. "Should I just...start talking?"

"Given that it's the only way..." Hawkeye trails off. He glances toward Margaret, sighs, then tries again. "Yeah, Beej, that, that sounds good."

BJ nods. Now that the wind's been knocked out of his sails, it barely seems worth bringing up. Why should he care that they don't want to be in that part of his life? If he has to choose between them not liking all of his friends or not having them at all, it's no contest. But when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out at first. He hedges. "It's... It's stupid. It really doesn't matter."

"C'mon," Hawkeye mutters. "Don't do that. It's insulting. You think we don't know you better than that?"

It's a bit of a painful jab to be seen through so easily, but then again, it's a lot harder to misconstrue something if they're both attempting to be direct. "I get your point," he admits quietly. He needs a little longer to build himself up to actually saying the things that have been plaguing him, and during those moments, Margaret still doesn't turn to face him. BJ stares at her back with a certain kind of wistfulness. "I-I just..." He huffs. "I don't understand why neither of you have been around the past few days."

Hawkeye blinks. "I thought we already covered that."

"Did we?" BJ asks. "I'm having trouble remembering."

"Well, I said we'd behave. Both of us." Hawk gestures between him and Margaret.

"Ah." BJ tries to chew on that for a few seconds, how that equates to them being so scarce. "I didn't realize you could only be civil if you weren't around."

"Figured it'd be easier that way." Hawkeye shrugs. "You know me. Once my mouth starts running, you've gotta get out the duct tape to shut me up. And Bardonaro and I don't exactly have the best history. He's so... I-I mean, he's..." With a frustrated growl, Hawk throws his head back. "Do you know how unbelievably hard it was for me just to greet him? Beej, he could've gotten you killed."

"It wouldn't have gone that far." BJ can't be completely certain, but the past is the past and he'd rather not dwell on other paths it could have taken. Especially not in Korea.

"It could've, though. And the money? Th-The incredibly juvenile pranks? God, he can't even pull one that's actually clever."

"Hawk." There's no duct tape around, but he has to get him to slow down somehow. "I get it. I understand that you don't like him. I'm not asking you to like him. I just want to spend time together with my best friend and my family, not picking one of you over the other. Doesn't that make sense?"

"I'd be miserable," Hawk fires back.

"Maybe you wouldn't be! Have you thought about that? Maybe if you gave him a chance, you'd like him a lot more than you know." The anger's beginning to build up again. He's really not asking for much. Just a little effort. "Peg adores him. She spent every waking moment with us that she could. She learned his language and started being able to hit back at him when he was playing around. So maybe if you took a page out of her book—"

"I'm not Peg," Margaret blurts.

BJ looks at her, brows flying up. "You're... What?"

"I'm. Not. Peg." Margaret whirls around on her heel. The sight of her face is instantly devastating. Red all over. Tears brimming in her eyes. Jaw so tight that she must be giving herself a migraine. "And if you're going to spend the rest of our lives comparing us, I-I'm not going to stand for it."

Wait, that's not... No, he doesn't mean that. He's never wanted that. Is that really what she thinks? As all the fight rushes out of him, BJ takes a step toward her. "Margaret."

"Don't." She holds up a hand and he slams to a halt. "Do you really believe that I don't think about it? That it doesn't claw at the inside of my brain every single day? Do you know how hard it is to, to have your daughter over and to hold her in my arms and to know that she'll never fit in them the way she does Peg's?" Her breath hitches, but she pushes on, voice beginning to wobble. "Even your friend saw it. His damn comment about if I have any nicknames. I knew exactly what he was asking. And you didn't do anything to shut him up, did you?"

"I did," he whispers. God, he wants to take her into his arms. If only he thought she wouldn't shout at him and shove him away for doing so. "I went right in the guest bedroom with him and I told him to lay off."

"But you couldn't do it in front of me, could you? Man talk. You men go off and have a little chat where the sensitive woman can't hear you. You don't say a damn thing to comfort me afterward, to let me know what you'd done." She's picking up her pace with fervor now. "The entire time that we've been together, I've known what I am. I'm a blonde woman named Margaret who could take care of myself. You saw it the first day we met. You threw yourself at me like I was your lifeline. Goddammit, BJ, how many times have you seen me going down the hall and thought I was her? When the lights are out while you make love to me, who are you holding in your arms?"

"You!" His voice breaks too, his face tense with desperation. "Margaret, it's you, it's always been you, you have to trust me."

She shakes her head. The first tears finally begin to fall. "I don't know if I can believe you. I wish I could. I wish I knew for once and for all that you didn't miss your, your lithe, elegant, beautifully feminine wife, that you don't regret saddling yourself with someone so coarse and...and..." Just like that, the dam breaks. She covers her eyes, but she can't hide the sobs that burst from her chest.

BJ can't stand it anymore. He rushes to her and wraps her arms around her, holding her to his chest. "Margaret Houlihan, you are the love of my fucking life. I don't care if you're in combat boots or heels, or if you're in a dress or a suit."

"But you were so miserable wh-when she began changing," Margaret accuses. "Turning more independent."

"I was an asshole," he fires back. He cups the back of her head and kisses her brow over and over again, his own tears coursing down his cheeks to join hers. "I was terrified and I took it out on her, on you, on Hawkeye, on everybody. Do you think I don't regret that?"

"But..."

"Margaret, can you stand to look at me?" BJ pleads.

She sniffles. For a long few seconds, she stays right where she is. But then she tips her head back and looks him right in the eye, so strong all the way to her core. She's had to be strong for her whole life. And though he wishes that she didn't have to be, what the hell kind of man would he be if he wanted her weaker so that she couldn't get away from him? It's too much pressure, expecting himself to take care of the whole world. He can't. He just can't.

BJ thumbs over her cheeks to wipe her tears away. "This is what I know. I fell in love with you much, much sooner than I realized. I was dazzled by you. Everything that you are. Every part of you. You intimidated the hell out of me, but I liked it. I liked knowing that every day I'd get up and you'd demand that I meet you on your level rather than me dragging you to mine. You're not a replacement and you never have been, I swear it. If I wanted another Peg, there are dozens of women I could've fallen for instead of you. But I didn't. You stole my heart before I ever noticed it was gone." He presses their foreheads together and drops his voice to a murmur. "I love you. I don't think I could ever stop. I don't want you to be someone who sits around the house all day waiting for me to get home. I want you to be you, whoever that is, and I want the honor of being allowed to see it. I'd do anything for it. I'd do anything for you."

She digs her nails into his back, trying to catch her breath, to silence her weeping. "BJ, I'm scared. I'm so scared. I don't know who I am right now. I don't know who I'm becoming."

"Then thank heavens that you don't have to do it alone," he whispers.

That sets her off all over again. She buries her face in his chest, shaking as she cries. But this time she extends her arm toward Hawkeye and wiggles her fingers. Hawkeye comes just like he always has when she's needed him. He stands behind her, molding his body against her back, and holds her by sliding his arms as far as he can around BJ. When their gazes meet, there is a sort of wide-eyed terror inside of Hawk, something that BJ doesn't understand the source of. Was it something Margaret said? Does he share one of her fears?

BJ holds Hawkeye's cheek in his palm and leans in for a kiss, pausing only an inch away and allowing Hawk to close the rest of the gap himself. "I love you," BJ quietly says, words just for Hawkeye. "I-I don't need you to force yourself to do something you hate just to make me happy. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have expected it. You're both your own people with your own minds a-and I, I'm going to spend my entire life doing everything in my power to prove it, if I need to."

Hawk's eyes fill with tears, but his lips quirk at the edges. He gives a little nod. "You know, Beej, you already have."

Something snaps inside of BJ, unlocking gallons of tears that he hadn't realized he was repressing until this very moment. He clings to Hawk, barely even giving Margaret room to breathe. They're all terrified. There's no blueprint for how to make something like this work. The world can be so small, so cruel. It wants to break people like them. But maybe if they all stand together hand in hand, they'll not only withstand those who want them to fail, but they might even rise so far above them that they'll never have the power to hurt them ever again.

It's difficult to pull away from them for the rest of the day, even after Leo returns home. As though he understands, Leo announces that he's going to go take a nap, then disappears into the guest room, leaving BJ and Margaret and Hawkeye free to curl up together on the couch for a couple of hours, sometimes watching TV, sometimes chatting about everything and nothing, sometimes sitting in companionable silence.

In all honesty, the only reason BJ finally drags himself away is because it's time for him to have his nightly phone call with Erin and like hell is he ever going to miss that. His heart is almost painfully full and his ears still ringing from her lovely, bright voice when he returns to the living room. When he's just down the hall, he hears Hawkeye say, "No, really, it's insane what they're working on now. Incredible. Stupendous. Absolutely out of this fucking world."

BJ comes to the doorway, then freezes, suddenly unable to breathe, because there is Hawkeye, animatedly talking with his hands flying through the air, and Leo sitting at the other end of the couch with a big dopey grin on his face. They don't notice him at first. "Does it fuck you up the same way it does for me?" Leo asks. "I mean, the extraction of lipids from the brain? We can do that now, really? Every time we get a little deeper into how that thing works, I feel like I've gotta go be a hermit in the mountain for a few weeks just to even begin wrapping my head around it."

"Oh, God, don't get me started." Hawkeye shakes his head in a familiar expression of wonder. "And it gets worse when you sit there and really start to dig into it. You start to get under the surface, but then you realize you're trying to break down the elements of human consciousness with the very same bundle of meat that we still barely understand. I'm telling you, the first time I saw it, the, the brain and the central nervous system, saw a model of it all, I thought I was gonna pass out right there in the lecture."

Hawk catches sight of BJ then and pauses, and as Leo takes up the conversation again, BJ simply beams and mouths the words, thank you. Hawkeye relaxes, a sense of contentment radiating off of him, then gets pulled back into Leo's orbit. BJ's familiar with that experience. Sometimes he wonders how long it's really going to take Hawk to realize that he gets so annoyed by Leo for many reasons, but the chief one being that they're similar in so many ways.

Though he's tempted to interrupt, the fledgling rapport being developed by two of the people he's closest to is fragile. The last thing he wants is to step in and ruin the dynamic before it gets off the ground. So BJ moves as silently as he can past the doorway and heads upstairs instead. He'll keep himself busy for a little longer with his fingers and toes all crossed.

BJ isn't invited, but he quietly lets himself into Margaret's bedroom that evening anyway. She's sleeping alone. She's rolled onto her side, her hair beautifully tousled around her on the pillow, her breathing smooth and deep. BJ all but tiptoes to her bed, then slides under the covers so he can spoon her with his arm secure around her waist.

She stirs with a faint groan. After rubbing his forearm, she hums and murmurs, "Everything all right, BJ?"

"Perfectly fine. I just missed you." He kisses the back of her neck, nuzzles the soft skin there, and gives her a gentle butterfly kiss with his eyelashes as well. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, no, s'okay." Margaret pats his hand. When she interlaces their fingers, BJ's so shaken with love that he curls up even tighter against her. "Always happy when you're here," she mumbles, still half-asleep.

He smiles and buries his face in her trapezius. He wasn't lying—he does still miss her every second they're apart—but he also has to admit that he came here with something in mind. It would be kinder to save it for tomorrow once she's gotten all of her rest, he knows, but he's always been terrible at hiding surprises that feel so important to him. It's a miracle that he manages to keep Christmas and birthday gifts a secret. So he takes a deep breath, then quietly says, "Margaret, do you think you would ever like to come with me and visit a tailor?"

"I don't need any more dresses," she informs him.

He knows. He doesn't fully understand, but he knows. "I meant...maybe to design a suit for you."

Silence. Then she rolls to face him, brow furrowed. "What?"

It's possible that this is a terrible thing to offer, that he's misread every hint he's received. But he forces himself to stay strong, to not apologize or retreat in any way. "You know, some menswear. Something made to fit you exactly as you like."

"We couldn't do that," she whispers. "What would the people there say?"

"So we tell them it's for a costume party. We tell them how difficult it is to find something in your height, so we thought we'd go right to the source. You could have a whole tailored suit just for you. For any time you might want to wear it."

All at once, her eyes fill with tears. She gapes at him for a few seconds longer. "Do you mean that? This isn't some prank, is it?"

"Scouts honor."

Margaret gasps. "I-I don't... I'm not sure if I'd... Oh, BJ, there's so much that I don't..."

He gives her another moment to continue, but when she doesn't, he kisses the tip of her nose. "Why don't you think about it? Don't have to decide anything tonight."

She seems to be speechless. Suddenly she buries her face in his chest, pulling up fistfuls of his shirt, and shivers in his arms. It isn't an answer necessarily, but he knows his lovers better than the back of his own hands. She wants this. She wants it just like she wanted Hawkeye's ties. And though it's not something that he can really grasp as easily as so many other things in his life, maybe that's all right. Maybe they can all figure these things out together, just like Hawkeye and his secret stash of panties. For now, all BJ has to do is hold Margaret. Fall asleep together. Dream something big and beautiful. He can do that. It's a wonderful place to start.

On Leo's final night of his visit, BJ and Margaret tackle the dishes together—Hawkeye cooked, decided to spoil them all with french toast for dinner, so it's only fair. BJ can hear Hawkeye laughing in the office while he takes his weekly call from his dad, the kind that runs up their long distance phone bill to exorbitant amounts because he can't get off the phone any sooner than an hour. But it's all right. It's only fair that the only one of them with a decent relationship with their father should get to soak him up as much as he wants. There are two doctors in this house, soon to be three. They can handle an expensive phone bill.

Leo's location, however, is a mystery, and after BJ kisses Margaret's temple in farewell while she finishes up drying the last few plates, he goes on a hunt to find him. He's outside on the patio, puffing away at a cigar, letting out rings of smoke, showing off for no one. Of course he's doing that. Leo's never needed anyone's approval to be happy, never needed to perform. He does things because he likes to do them. He just so happens to enjoy sharing those moments with others whenever he gets the opportunity.

When BJ opens the door, Leo turns his head, then grins and gives a bastardized two-finger salute. "Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here."

"It's not the Top of the Mark, but it's all right." Their backyard is dark, only lit by the moon and stars above, casting their faint gleam over the grass, the flowers, the shrubs, the trees. Crickets are chirping. In the distance, he hears an owl quietly, mournfully hooting. They've got a nice place, really, relatively quiet without a whole lot of traffic. He's not sure they'll stay here forever, but it's been a lovely house to settle in while they're still figuring out exactly what they're supposed to look like. Their relationship is forever shifting, changing, evolving, maturing, and while there's no clear end point in sight where everything will simply be perfect, BJ's no longer in a rush to get there, not really. Life's an adventure and he's taking it on with one hand in each of his. He doesn't know anybody else personally who gets to have that level of support.

Leo offers the cigar, so BJ decides he might as well indulge himself. He gave up drinking months ago, but this? This he can still enjoy without being terrified of who he'll become once he's finished with it.

When BJ passes it back, Leo is already watching him without an ounce of self-consciousness. BJ waits a few seconds for him to say whatever's on his mind, but when it doesn't come, he chuckles. "What's that look for? What'd I do this time?"

Leo narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "I'm gonna ask you something."

"Okay." There isn't room to say no, not when he's using that particular tone.

"Are you happy?"

Questions like that regardless of the answer always make his stomach flip-flop. There is a moment of shock at being asked something so intimate—and yes, he does consider it extremely intimate because what else could it be? Leo isn't expecting him to hedge or give a specific answer. He's looking deep under the surface whether BJ likes it or not. "Am I happy?" BJ finally asks to buy himself some time.

"Yeah."

So much for time. BJ takes a deep breath and turns back to the yard. "Of course I'm happy."

"Mm." Leo bumps their shoulders together. "Try again, pal. Give some self-reflection a whirl, huh? Put that big, fat brain to work for a change."

"What, surgery doesn't use enough brain power?"

"Nice deflection." Leo grabs his arm and turns him to face him, lips quirked. "Surprise, surprise, you're brilliant. You've got enough shit stored in there to run a whole medical library." When he puts his index finger on BJ's forehead, he rubs it in a tight, almost painful circle. "I know you've got the book smarts. I was right there at Stanford, watching Hunnicutt the Golden Boy put everybody else in his classes to shame. But you know what's interesting?"

BJ shakes his head.

"I hadn't thought about it until I was on the flight, but until this year, I've only ever known you with Peg."

The dull pang takes over in his gut. It's so interesting, feeling how it's changed over the months since the divorce was finalized. There is no longer an electric pining. Not even a whole lot of wistfulness. But there is the heaviness of memory all the same, the recollection of all they had and how quickly it was swept away.

Leo considers him, cocking his head. "No, really, that's how it always was. The day I met you, she was holding your hand. I'll never forget it. She didn't even come up to my shoulder. Cute as a button. And absolutely besotted with you."

BJ squeezes his eyes shut.

"I swear, if Stanford had allowed it, the two of you would've shacked up together that first night. The only reason I ever got time alone with you was because of the fraternity."

"Got jealous, did you?" BJ quips out of a need to defend himself from looking backward.

Leo chuckles. "Mm, you're cute. Anyway." He waves the cigar through the air to dismiss the concept without any hesitation. "What I'm trying to say is both of you were a unit. One person. You were celebrating your monthly anniversaries. You went out to eat by candlelight every chance you had. Movies, theater, art museums, you name it, the two of you had a date there. Always holding hands. Rubbing noses. Talking big plans." When he puts his hand on BJ's shoulder and gives it a squeeze, it centers him instantly from the riptide of memory. Leo's unflappable smile holds him in place, that amusement that still manages to have a long line of kindness beneath it. "I've never in my whole life seen a couple as sappy as you two were. It was annoying as hell."

The laugh is yanked out of BJ by surprise. "It's not like you were ever hurting for dates either, Mr. Playing The Field."

"Yeah, but that worked for me. You know how I was. How I am. I don't go in for that lovey-dovey shit. Hell, I still can't imagine spending my life hitched to somebody. It's just not in my plans. I've never wanted it. I like spending time with people. I like experiencing things with them. I like to get them under the sheets. And then I like to tell them good night and go straight back to my place and sleep all alone in my big, cozy bed without having to worry about getting up the next day to make them breakfast. But you?" He squeezes BJ's shoulder, then moves to press his hand down right over his heart. "You're one of the most romantic bastards I've ever known."

"What are you trying to get at?" BJ asks.

Leo huffs. "Impatient. Let me have my monologue, goddammit."

"You've had it," BJ fires back, fighting not to smile.

"Fine." With one more pat over his heart, Leo goes on. "I haven't seen either Hawkeye or Margaret be anything close to sappy or sweet or romantic with you. Yeah, okay, you've got a hickey. I gave you a billion of those. That didn't mean we were anything more than best friends who were having sex, right?"

BJ nods tentatively, heart beginning to race in anticipation of the question he knows is coming once more.

"So I'm gonna ask you one more time and I want you to reaaaaally think before you answer. I wanna see smoke coming out of your ears from the gears turning too hard and fast. Mmkay?"

One more nod. He gathers himself.

Leo leans down so they're at eye level with one another. "Beej. Are you happy?"

He does exactly as Leo asked. He thinks. Because he's right, that's the thing. BJ's entire personality for years was to be the epitome of a romantic husband. Birthday and anniversary celebrations were big and deliberate. He brought Peg thoughtful gifts every time he saw something that made him think of her. There were always bouquets of flowers and tangling their legs together under a booth's table. When they made love, he could barely get his declaration of his affection out of his mouth. And Peg met him there with just as much passion. There was a reason why BJ was so sure that their marriage could survive anything that fate might throw at them.

Leo has landed on the very true fact that his relationship with Hawkeye and Margaret is not even remotely similar. He can tell that they love him, of course, but the three of them interact in very different ways than what he's familiar with. Honestly when he really chews on his day-to-day life with them, it's almost like they are three best friends who choose to spend all their time together, who fall into bed so often that it's felt incredibly strange not being intimate with them for even just a week.

It's almost like it was with Leo.

A rush of clarity shoots through him like a live wire. It's just like it was with Leo. The only difference is that Margaret and Hawkeye make no bones about promising something long-term that they don't ever want to stop. They're more tender in their touches, more fond in their stares, but they don't seem to miss it if BJ has a few weeks where he can't take one of them out on whatever facsimile of a date they can have in public. As long as they get to be overlapping all three of their bodies on the couch, they're satisfied.

Is BJ missing the old days of courting and romance? That's the real question here. Is there a part of him that isn't being tended to in the garden of his soul? Time seems to come to a stop as he digs through his mental filing cabinets to see if any complaints have been filed recently. He finds two items of importance. One, he's already handled with them, the frustration of not being able to share every aspect of his life—like Leo—with his lovers. He's not a fool. If he'd brought it up beforehand, they never would've had that blowup. And for that matter, seeing Hawkeye go out of his way to spend time with Leo one-on-one today meant the world to BJ. It showed him exactly how far his lovers are willing to go for him if BJ will only ask for what he wants.

The second pain point is one that he can barely bring himself to admit. And it's that he's been lonely. It doesn't seem like it should be possible. He's a man with two partners. He has a job where he thrives and has fantastic rapport with his coworkers. He has local friends who are just a call away, who would love to go and have dinner with him or spend time at the beach. But he has still been lonely as hell. Ever since Margaret began chasing her dream of becoming a doctor in earnest, it's like she and Hawkeye linked up and never stopped. He is able to do something for her that BJ apparently can't, or if he could, they aren't feeling the pain of him not being there while they study.

BJ lifts his chin with more confidence. "I promise that I am being one hundred percent sincere when I say that I'm very happy in my relationship with them. I don't feel..."

"Ah." Leo flicks his chest. "No, you're hesitating, try again."

"Dick," BJ mutters. He tips his head back and tries to find his words hidden in the constellations. "I'm not unhappy. You're right, my relationship with them is completely different from the life I lived before I met them. But, you know, it doesn't have to be the same. It's not lesser for being different. I-I feel like there are parts of my soul that are being more nourished now than they ever have before. And to be perfectly honest with you, I really don't know if I would've been able to start healing from all the bullshit we went through in Korea if I didn't have two people who lived it with me to lean on. I never want our relationship to end." A pause. A breath. "But it's not perfect."

"There we go." Leo tosses an arm around his shoulder and stands side by side with him. "So what's got your panties in a twist, lover boy?"

BJ rolls his eyes, but this time he can't stop the fond smile from crossing his lips. "I told you about Margaret being in medical school right now, right?"

"You called me and chewed my ear off with all your bragging about her, yeah." Leo takes another puff off his cigar.

"I'm proud of her. So sue me. But what that means is she needs someone to study with. To correct her mistakes. To answer questions she might not be able to find the answers for in a textbook. And Hawkeye is very good at that."

Leo hums with that psychic understanding that he's always had with BJ.

"So. They're spending all their time together. Without me. It's, it's just weird, you know? For so long, it was just Hawkeye and me, this unbreakable unit. Our world revolved around each other. If I didn't see him at least in passing every couple of hours, I was so cranky about it. But that's...that's gone now. And that's fine," he stresses as hard as he can. "It's nobody's fault if Margaret's who he prefers, right? Anyway, I know we went through Korea together and I learned more in two years there than I did in all of my training, my residency, any of it. But that doesn't change the fact that compared to Chief Surgeon Hawkeye Pierce, I'm so inexperienced as a doctor that I could be a baby. I wouldn't be helpful. I'd slow them both down. So it's for the best that they don't want me to be there."

"They've told you they want you to leave them alone?" Leo asks in a voice high with incredulity.

Ugh. "Well, no."

"What did they say?"

When BJ doesn't reply right away, Leo gives him a shake by the shoulders and he groans in response before murmuring, "They didn't say anything. Because I didn't ask."

Slowly, slowly one of Leo's eyebrows begins to lift. "And the last time you joined them to help with the studying?"

BJ turns his head. Maybe it's so dark that Leo won't be able to see his cheeks flaming.

"Uh-uh, don't do that." Leo taps him on the face not quite hard enough to sting, then grabs him by the jaw and forces him to look at him once more. "Hey. Hi. So you're telling me that because they haven't gotten on their knees and begged you to run flash cards with Margaret, that means they think you're stupid and useless?"

"I didn't say that," BJ snaps.

"Trust me, Beej, your stupidity has nothing to do with your skill as a doctor. I'm not gonna butter up your ego again. C'mon. You don't need me to do that. But what you do need, apparently, is for me to tell you that you're being stupid interpersonally." He grins again. "Do you remember living in the fraternity house with me? Do you recall how many times I just showed up in your room and climbed on your bed with you and started drilling you on your homework? And do you remember how many times you told me to leave you alone?"

Now is about the time that the steam begins leaking from his ears, but it has nothing to do with thinking too hard. Fuck, he hates when Leo has points, the son of a bitch. "...like...four or five, maybe."

"Four or five in three entire years."

"That was different," BJ asserts.

"What, because it was undergrad instead of medical school? You're killing me. Now, listen." He prods BJ in the chest and makes him flinch, but at least he's completely focused on him now, annoyed as he might be. "It would be a thousand times easier for the two of them to run off together if they legitimately didn't want you around. They could get married and pop out a baby and live that pretty life we all see on the television. They would survive without you. They don't need your money or your support. They've got it under control. They stay with you because they want you. Are you gonna make me say it again?"

"No," BJ mumbles. Leo finally lets him go, so BJ crosses his arms and take a few steps away. "Goddammit, I hate it when you're right."

Leo chuckles. "I know." He comes up behind BJ and hugs him around the shoulders, resting his chin on the top of BJ's head. "Are you gonna listen or do I have to come back in two months and kick your ass until you get it together?"

BJ heaves a sigh as he tilts his head enough that he can rest the back of it on Leo's knobby shoulder. "I solemnly swear that when you finally get out of my hair tomorrow, I'll...I'll see if they want me to help them with the studying."

Without a word, Leo holds up a pinky in front of his face. BJ considers biting it off, but he finally loops his own around it and gives their hands a little shake. "There we go," Leo murmurs with smug delight. "Now, c'mon, I've only got one night left in California and I wanna spend it fleecing you." Leo smacks him on the ass nice and hard, and while BJ is bent over and recovering from it, Leo walks back inside while laughing with abandon.

Bastard. BJ's so glad he's in his life.

It's been two hours since Leo left and BJ is still unsettled by the comparative quiet. He can hear the buzzing of Hawkeye and Margaret working through her last night of cramming before a massive exam tomorrow, but they're so woven into him by now that he registers them like he might a cricket, something soothing and expected that he would instantly notice if it was missing. It's different without Leo. He had a whole week to remember how easy it is to share a space with him and now that he's gone, BJ already aches to see him again. Maybe in a few months he'll finally bite the bullet and go visit him in Philadelphia like Leo's been pestering him to do for years. It's about time.

His feet carry him from the office to the den without him realizing exactly why until he's lingering in the doorframe and watching his lovers. Hawkeye's curled up on the couch with his back to one of the arms, watching Margaret with a little smirk. "C'mon, it's just the bones in the hand. You know this. I know you know this."

"Don't rush me," Margaret snaps, shoving his leg off the couch and making him whine. "Okay, fine." She grabs his hand and holds it up. "Distal phalanx." She touches the tip of his finger. "Middle phalanx." Down to the next joint. "Proximal phalanx." She squeezes his finger right above the metacarpus.

"Good, good," Hawk encourages with delight. He kisses the back of her finger. "Keep going. This is gonna be so easy for you."

Just getting to witness this cozy domestic tableau is enough to make BJ's heart nearly burst out of his chest from how full it is. How did he get this lucky? How did he lose everything and still end up winning the prize? After everything he's done, everything he's said, every messy moment that they both were forced to experience? And they still want him? They want to make a life with him? It's enough to make him want to fall to his knees and weep, if only they didn't always hurt so badly when he ends up kneeling.

But the thing is that he doesn't have to just stand back and watch them together. They love him. They do. And if he keeps shying away from them, pulling back, then what are they supposed to do? How long will they chase him before they give up and figure he'll come to them when he's ready?

He's ready now. Or, rather, he has to be. And so he is.

BJ walks toward them with a smile. "You have all twenty-four bones down pat yet?"

Hawkeye throws his head back with a hyena cackle and kicks his feet while Margaret points at BJ with a stern look on her face. "Don't you start," she threatens. "Not only will you mix me up, but if I have to hear that damn squirrel story one more time..."

"Oh, but you love it," Hawk murmurs smugly as he grabs her wrist and pulls her in for a quick pop kiss. Then he looks up at BJ with bright eyes. "Everything okay?"

The fact that he's asking that, that he's assuming BJ is only here because he needs something, only spurs him quicker into action. "Oh, no, everything's fine." BJ gestures between them. "You, uh, have room down there for another study partner?"

Margaret gasps, instantly beaming, and Hawkeye grins so widely that he gets those crinkles at the edge of his beautiful eyes. "Are you kidding?" Margaret asks. "Do you know how much I've missed you?" Without another word, she yanks BJ down by the hand, making him flail and yelp as he narrowly avoids slamming his face into the wall behind the couch.

"C'mere, you gorgeous hunk of man." Hawkeye hugs him around the waist and tugs at him until BJ settles between his legs and leans into his chest. Though BJ tries to find a way to keep his feet on the floor and out of Margaret's space, she tsks and gathers both of them right into her lap where she pats them before beginning to thumb over his ankle in a hypnotic pattern.

He's shaken by their affection. He's been depriving himself of it for weeks, and for what? His certainty that he'd only make them angry if he kept insinuating himself into their space? BJ shivers as he kisses Hawk's cheek and reaches up to run his fingers through his silky hair. "I love you. I love you both. I know for a fact that I won't ever love anybody else the way that I do the two of you. I hope you know that. I hope you wake up every day and know how...how special you both are to me."

"Oh, Beej," Margaret whispers. She puts her textbook and the stack of flash cards on the floor, then tips forward so she can lie on his chest, ignoring Hawk's squawk at the new weight. "I love you, darling. Don't you know how happy it makes me to be here with you?"

"This is all really touching," Hawkeye splutters, "but you're both gonna crush me into a pancake."

BJ chuckles. "Mmm, does that mean we get to cover you in syrup tonight and eat you up?"

Hawk gives up trying to shove them off, succumbing to his current position with a quiet, shivery moan. "We'll have to put a tarp down on the bed."

"Worth it," BJ decides. He kisses the top of Margaret's head as he holds her close.

Hawkeye huffs. "Goddammit, Beej, how am I supposed to think about anything else for the rest of the day? With a tongue like yours? Fuck. Fuck, I love you."

BJ squeezes his eyes shut and smiles so widely that it hurts his cheeks.

They snuggle up and stay just like that for an hour and a half, falling asleep together, their breathing all perfectly synchronized just like they should be, just like their heartbeats.