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Candy Hearts: In Good Company (MASH fic)
Candy Hearts author reveals were today! I wrote MASH friendship fluff/light h/c. It's not too long, so I figured I'll cross-post it here as well.
This was also kind of loosely inspired by a prompt from the 3 Sentence Ficathon, any, any, I saved this for you, because I was browsing the prompt lists around the same time looking for something that would jump out and suggest a fic to me, and my brain latched onto that one as something my recipient might like.
In Good Company (MASH, 1075 wds, team gen, late seasons)
Hawkeye gets to the mess late because of delays in post-op, but his friends are looking out for him.
Also posted on AO3. AO3 tags: "Food As A Metaphor For Love"
It had been a long, miserable day and night in the OR, and Hawkeye didn't manage to finally drag himself off duty until hours after everyone else had gone to crash, shower, or eat. He'd spent a while in post-op afterwards, sitting with a patient whose condition took a while to stabilize, and one of the nurses needed his help with an agitated patient after that.
It was considerably after sunup when he finally slogged out of post-op, still wearing stained scrubs he was too tired to change out of. His hands cramped, his head hurt, and the sun was too high and too bright. Squinting up at it, trying to remember the last time he'd slept, he weighed the relative merits of trying to find something edible in the breakfast chow line versus crashing at the Swamp. There had been rumors of fresh sweet rolls that morning, brought in on last night's supply truck from Seoul, but by now they'd be long gone; there would be nothing left but cold, runny powdered eggs and the worst and most shriveled of the breakfast sausage. He was too tired to be hungry anyway.
Still, he knew from experience that not eating was worse -- probably.
And there was, not inconsequentially, the knowledge that his bunkmates would either be asleep or in the mess, and right now he knew that as tired as he was, he wouldn't be able to get his brain to spin down enough to sleep immediately. He had the option of drinking himself into a stupor in the Swamp, or finding someone to talk to in the mess, so he turned his dragging steps that way.
The chow line was sparse, a few complaining guys from Supply and a couple of nurses just changing shifts. Hawkeye slouched along, picked up a tin tray and received a sloppy mess of eggs that looked even worse than expected, a piece of toast that had apparently been toasted into paving material, and the last cold dregs of the coffee.
But his bunkmates were at a table along the wall, along with Margaret, all of them looking as exhausted as he felt -- though Charles had found the time to shave, apparently -- and they waved him over, so he wobbled to the end of the bench beside Margaret and slumped down across from BJ and Charles.
"You look like Dorian Grey's portrait, Pierce," Charles said.
"Thanks. You should have seen the other guy." Hawkeye stuck his fork in his eggs and found that it stood up on its own, while Margaret wilted sleepily on his shoulder. "Look at that, the kitchen discovered a new element. Maybe it can stand in for concrete the next time we fix the potholes in the road."
"They can serve the concrete in the mess," BJ said.
Hawkeye gestured at him with his fork once he reclaimed it from the eggs. "See, it's a win all around."
Margaret yawned, nudged Hawkeye's shoulder with her chin, and straightened up again. "How's Peckham?" The patient who'd coded twice on the table.
"Awake and talking," Hawkeye said. He smiled without even having to work on it; run down as he was, there were still things to smile about, now and then. "Lieutenant Baker is doing extra checks on him when she does rounds. I told her to wake me up if his BP starts to crash."
"You did good work on that kid, Hawk," BJ told him.
"Yes, a fine job," Charles put in, and added, "Very nearly up to my standards, and I don't say that lightly."
"That's it, Charles," BJ said. "Keep taking those learn-by-mail courses and you'll master the art of the compliment in about another decade."
Charles gave him a halfhearted glare that he was too tired to really pull off.
Margaret yawned again. She'd had her hand over her coffee cup; now she set the mug on the edge of Hawkeye's tray and got up. "I didn't want my breakfast sausage," she told him. "It's the first off the line -- almost edible. Probably cold now, but if you don't want it, the camp dogs will enjoy it. Night, or I guess, morning, boys."
She wandered off sleepily with her tray. Hawkeye looked in -- it wasn't a joke, it was an empty coffee mug with sausage in it. He cautiously nudged a sausage with his fork, then touched it with the back of his fingers. It was cold, but they all knew the early batch were usually the ones that hadn't been cooked into oblivion. This looked like it might be possible to eat it without ten minutes of chewing. Still, he wasn't sure if he had the energy.
Across the table, Charles casually reached for the wadded-up napkin beside his tray.
"Oh ... Pierce, I'm not hungry either, for obvious reasons," he said with a disdainful sneer at the half-demolished contents of his tray, "so you're welcome to this if you want it." The napkin came off; it was one of the coveted sweet rolls, which he put carelessly on the edge of Hawkeye's tray.
"Oh, my god," Hawkeye said, staring at it. "That actually looks worth eating." He picked it up. It was soft. Actually soft. He wasn't sure when he'd last seen soft bread. He gave it an experimental sniff. "This ... is actual food."
"You're telling me," Charles said with a wistful stare that he hastily wrenched away.
BJ cleared his throat. "Oh yeah, and I was looking for clean socks this morning and found this. I'm not really in the mood, so ..." He set a square of his wife's coveted fudge on the edge of Hawkeye's tray.
"You said that was all gone," Charles said accusingly.
BJ shrugged. "The tin got shoved under my spare socks the last time I got out a clean shirt. Not my fault."
"Guys," Hawkeye said. For once, words failed him. And anyway, he was too tired to come up with anything sentimental.
Instead he tore the roll in half, passed half back over to Charles, and broke the fudge in two and gave the other half to BJ. He set the coffee mug of somewhat edible sausages in the middle of the table where anyone could grab one.
"Turns out I'm a little hungry after all," Hawkeye said, mustering a tired grin. "But only a little."
Even in this place, maybe especially in this place, food tasted better when it was shared with friends.
This was also kind of loosely inspired by a prompt from the 3 Sentence Ficathon, any, any, I saved this for you, because I was browsing the prompt lists around the same time looking for something that would jump out and suggest a fic to me, and my brain latched onto that one as something my recipient might like.
In Good Company (MASH, 1075 wds, team gen, late seasons)
Hawkeye gets to the mess late because of delays in post-op, but his friends are looking out for him.
Also posted on AO3. AO3 tags: "Food As A Metaphor For Love"
It had been a long, miserable day and night in the OR, and Hawkeye didn't manage to finally drag himself off duty until hours after everyone else had gone to crash, shower, or eat. He'd spent a while in post-op afterwards, sitting with a patient whose condition took a while to stabilize, and one of the nurses needed his help with an agitated patient after that.
It was considerably after sunup when he finally slogged out of post-op, still wearing stained scrubs he was too tired to change out of. His hands cramped, his head hurt, and the sun was too high and too bright. Squinting up at it, trying to remember the last time he'd slept, he weighed the relative merits of trying to find something edible in the breakfast chow line versus crashing at the Swamp. There had been rumors of fresh sweet rolls that morning, brought in on last night's supply truck from Seoul, but by now they'd be long gone; there would be nothing left but cold, runny powdered eggs and the worst and most shriveled of the breakfast sausage. He was too tired to be hungry anyway.
Still, he knew from experience that not eating was worse -- probably.
And there was, not inconsequentially, the knowledge that his bunkmates would either be asleep or in the mess, and right now he knew that as tired as he was, he wouldn't be able to get his brain to spin down enough to sleep immediately. He had the option of drinking himself into a stupor in the Swamp, or finding someone to talk to in the mess, so he turned his dragging steps that way.
The chow line was sparse, a few complaining guys from Supply and a couple of nurses just changing shifts. Hawkeye slouched along, picked up a tin tray and received a sloppy mess of eggs that looked even worse than expected, a piece of toast that had apparently been toasted into paving material, and the last cold dregs of the coffee.
But his bunkmates were at a table along the wall, along with Margaret, all of them looking as exhausted as he felt -- though Charles had found the time to shave, apparently -- and they waved him over, so he wobbled to the end of the bench beside Margaret and slumped down across from BJ and Charles.
"You look like Dorian Grey's portrait, Pierce," Charles said.
"Thanks. You should have seen the other guy." Hawkeye stuck his fork in his eggs and found that it stood up on its own, while Margaret wilted sleepily on his shoulder. "Look at that, the kitchen discovered a new element. Maybe it can stand in for concrete the next time we fix the potholes in the road."
"They can serve the concrete in the mess," BJ said.
Hawkeye gestured at him with his fork once he reclaimed it from the eggs. "See, it's a win all around."
Margaret yawned, nudged Hawkeye's shoulder with her chin, and straightened up again. "How's Peckham?" The patient who'd coded twice on the table.
"Awake and talking," Hawkeye said. He smiled without even having to work on it; run down as he was, there were still things to smile about, now and then. "Lieutenant Baker is doing extra checks on him when she does rounds. I told her to wake me up if his BP starts to crash."
"You did good work on that kid, Hawk," BJ told him.
"Yes, a fine job," Charles put in, and added, "Very nearly up to my standards, and I don't say that lightly."
"That's it, Charles," BJ said. "Keep taking those learn-by-mail courses and you'll master the art of the compliment in about another decade."
Charles gave him a halfhearted glare that he was too tired to really pull off.
Margaret yawned again. She'd had her hand over her coffee cup; now she set the mug on the edge of Hawkeye's tray and got up. "I didn't want my breakfast sausage," she told him. "It's the first off the line -- almost edible. Probably cold now, but if you don't want it, the camp dogs will enjoy it. Night, or I guess, morning, boys."
She wandered off sleepily with her tray. Hawkeye looked in -- it wasn't a joke, it was an empty coffee mug with sausage in it. He cautiously nudged a sausage with his fork, then touched it with the back of his fingers. It was cold, but they all knew the early batch were usually the ones that hadn't been cooked into oblivion. This looked like it might be possible to eat it without ten minutes of chewing. Still, he wasn't sure if he had the energy.
Across the table, Charles casually reached for the wadded-up napkin beside his tray.
"Oh ... Pierce, I'm not hungry either, for obvious reasons," he said with a disdainful sneer at the half-demolished contents of his tray, "so you're welcome to this if you want it." The napkin came off; it was one of the coveted sweet rolls, which he put carelessly on the edge of Hawkeye's tray.
"Oh, my god," Hawkeye said, staring at it. "That actually looks worth eating." He picked it up. It was soft. Actually soft. He wasn't sure when he'd last seen soft bread. He gave it an experimental sniff. "This ... is actual food."
"You're telling me," Charles said with a wistful stare that he hastily wrenched away.
BJ cleared his throat. "Oh yeah, and I was looking for clean socks this morning and found this. I'm not really in the mood, so ..." He set a square of his wife's coveted fudge on the edge of Hawkeye's tray.
"You said that was all gone," Charles said accusingly.
BJ shrugged. "The tin got shoved under my spare socks the last time I got out a clean shirt. Not my fault."
"Guys," Hawkeye said. For once, words failed him. And anyway, he was too tired to come up with anything sentimental.
Instead he tore the roll in half, passed half back over to Charles, and broke the fudge in two and gave the other half to BJ. He set the coffee mug of somewhat edible sausages in the middle of the table where anyone could grab one.
"Turns out I'm a little hungry after all," Hawkeye said, mustering a tired grin. "But only a little."
Even in this place, maybe especially in this place, food tasted better when it was shared with friends.
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I am glad you did, because I thought I had left kudos on it when I read it on AO3 and either my browser or I glitched, so now I have done that.
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And on the MASH theme, last night I watched 7.7, the one where Charles and Klinger are stuck in an upturned van in a storm with a bunch of wounded men and Charles freaking out at having to do even more impromptu than usual surgery, and I loved it so much, Charles and Klinger should be stuck together in weird places all the time *_*
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And on the MASH theme, last night I watched 7.7, the one where Charles and Klinger are stuck in an upturned van in a storm with a bunch of wounded men and Charles freaking out at having to do even more impromptu than usual surgery, and I loved it so much, Charles and Klinger should be stuck together in weird places all the time *_*
YESSSS, that episode is so much fun! Charles so terribly out of his depth but doing his best anyway, and Klinger is really the best person to have along in a situation like that; they're such a great odd couple and I would definitely be here for them having all the adventures and getting stuck in all the strangest and worst places <3
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Yes, I loved that one too for ENTIRELY predictable reasons! It's just such a good growth episode for Charles (and the sort of almost-friendship they're reluctantly developing almost in spite of themselves). Charles being both his worst and best self in that episode and Hawkeye getting to see all of it is great. I especially love the "You know why / Yes I do" exchange in the OR (and the way Hawkeye looks around at him quickly when he admits it) and the way he clearly expects Hawkeye to berate him for it afterwards, but Hawkeye won't play along, not just because Hawkeye is not like that, but also because he can see that Charles is being harder on himself than anyone else could be. And then the lovely grace note of the ending. ♥
It's actually really interesting to compare this to the fight they have just a season or so earlier after he gave the patient the wrong drug - I think that was the episode where the whole camp was passing around the mystery novel? - because in that case Hawkeye *did* yell at him, and deservedly so, but I don't know if he's fully parsed that the real problem in that case was that he was doubling down on how it wasn't his fault and he essentially wanted Hawkeye to absolve him of blame, which Hawkeye of course refused to do. And here it's a very similar situation - Hawkeye having to fix a mistake he made that could have killed the patient - but the whole dynamic is completely different; he realizes he messed up, he folds as soon as he realizes that, and he's absolutely wallowing in guilt at the end.
And Hawkeye recognizes all of that - I don't know if he's mentally comparing it to the earlier situation or not, but Charles clearly hasn't figured out that Hawkeye has no desire to punish anyone, or to lord "being right" over anyone; he just wants them to do better, and Charles clearly is on the right track to doing better here, so Hawkeye is generous and gracious enough to pet him a little at the end. And he really cares a lot what Hawkeye thinks of him! He'd probably deny it to his dying day, but he does, and that was on display even back in the other episode where he almost killed a patient - the way he chases Hawkeye down to try to get Hawkeye to tell him it's not his fault! - but in this case he does get what he was trying to get there, and he does it not by actively looking for it, but by being genuinely sorry and trying to do the right thing. I just love their dynamic so much.
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I think what also gets to me about the episode - help I can't stop talking about it - is that it's a very (SORRY) EvS-in-Sakhalin thing where it's specifically about the character and his conscience. In this case, Charles isn't trying to do the right thing because he thinks he'll get a nice word out of Hawkeye if he does. He probably expects to be yelled at either way! He does the right thing because it's right, and in the end, that's what gets an unexpectedly warm reaction out of Hawkeye that he clearly didn't see coming. (It's so obvious that he expected Hawkeye is sitting down next to him to tell him he messed up, and then he gets the opposite of that, and I love it so much.)
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And hey, I'm always here for Biggles references <3333
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