Disclaimer: These characters belong to 20th Century Fox, not to me.
Sequel to Just Another Day.
Note: I wrote this one and then somehow left it out of the series! It goes between my stories "Just Another Day" and "A Rainy Night in Korea."
"Hawk? You okay?"
Hawkeye stares up at him, still breathing hard. His dark hair is rumpled, as are the fatigues he's wearing, and there's something impossibly attractive about the sight of him, just awakened.
"Beej," he breathes, and there's something so sexual in his voice that it makes a shiver go down B.J.'s spine.
B.J. swallows. "Uh. You were having a bad dream, I think. You kept saying my name..."
Hawk blinks at him, his eyes only half open. "Yeah," he says, very softly. "I was dreaming, all right."
"You okay now?" B.J.'s hand drops onto Hawkeye's shoulder, almost of its own volition, rubbing in an effort at reassurance.
"Yeah." Hawkeye's voice is low and hoarse. "I'm okay."
B.J. knows he ought to go back to sleep, but he's held here somehow, held by heavy-lidded eyes and a dark tumble of hair and the memory of a voice calling out his name. He remembers this afternoon, when he and Hawk had stared at each other just this way, right before...
His mind veers away from that thought. The fact that he kissed a guy still makes his cheeks flush hotly. And yet, part of him wants to do it again.
Hell. All of him wants to do it again.
He can feel every cell in his body straining toward Hawkeye. Just one more kiss, he thinks. Just one. One little brush of lips. What could it hurt?
He knows it's an excuse. He knows he's lying to himself. And yet, he glances toward Frank's cot, reassuring himself that Ferret Face is elsewhere, then bends slowly down, and drops a kiss onto Hawkeye's mouth.
"Go back to sleep," he says.
Hawkeye stares at him, looking as astounded as if B.J. had suddenly transformed into General MacArthur, complete with corncob pipe. "Uh," he mumbles. His legendary ability to make quips in any situation seems to have deserted him. "Yeah. Good night."
B.J. stands up and walks back to his own cot. He lies down in the darkness and tries to breathe slowly, tries to get rid of the tension that has gripped his muscles. Sleep doesn't come. He lies there, staring up at the tent
Hawkeye's voice is quiet. B.J. turns his head. "What is it, Hawk?"
"I was dreaming about you."
"I know. You said that."
"No." Hawkeye hesitates for a moment. "I was dreaming about you. It wasn't... it wasn't a nightmare."
And finally, B.J. gets it. His cheeks heat again, and he's grateful for the darkness. He remembers the sound of Hawk's voice, moaning his name, and the heat spreads through his whole body.
Now he's not going to be able to sleep tonight, either.