#hawkeye pierce drabble

[chaoticgremlinwholikescheese]

Radar and the No Good, Very Bad Day

A short drabble that's been rattling around in my brain :)

READ ON AO3

Today has been a bad day for Radar. Not just because he's in a war zone (although that tends to make any day a little dreary), but because it's been a series of one bad thing after another. First, they'd run out of coffee in the mess hall. That was fine. Sometimes you have to start your day without coffee. But then, someone accidentally tripped him and sent his breakfast spilling all over the floor. He just got another tray. He was determined not to let this ruin his day.

However, more bad things just kept happening. He got a very angry phone call about some misfiled paperwork. It wasn't his fault, but since he's the clerk, they pinned the blame on him. Being yelled at over the phone for an hour would make anyone cranky. But that combined with the lack of coffee put Radar in an especially bad mood.

Of course, Frank decided that this would be the best time to come and bother Radar about something completely pointless. He then proceeded to insult Radar when he was unable to change the actions of others. Though Radar may practically run the camp, he's not the boss of anyone. He couldn't stop Hawkeye from filling Frank's pillow with cement even if he tried. Hawkeye doesn't listen to anyone's rules. 

Radar decided to make himself feel a bit better by grabbing a soda from the Officer's club. A grape Nehi is the perfect pick-me-up. But when Radar popped the cap off it exploded everywhere, ruining several important documents. Radar was able to salvage a little, but most of the drink ended up on the desk. Radar couldn't even be sure what the ruined documents were because the ink was all smudged. He'd have to redo everything. 

While he got to work on that, he decided he'd drink what little was left of his soda. He lifted the cup up, and saw a large spider floating in the liquid. Of course there just had to be a dead spider in his drink. Today was the worst day he'd had in a while, and that's saying something, considering he's in the army. 

An hour later a bunch of casualties came in. Everyone flocked to the OR to help, and Radar was left running around doing tasks. He was regaling some information to Major Houlihan when a patient refused to go under anesthesia without a fight. The guy started throwing punches every which way, and one of them managed to hit Radar in the chest. It wasn't hard enough to do any serious damage, but it definitely hurt. 

Radar hoped that would be the last of it. However, he was sorely mistaken. His shirt got stained with ketchup. Someone accidentally spilled water all over his newest comic book. The shower ran out of hot water. He stepped in a puddle and soaked his pant leg. The lid of the salt shaker came loose and ruined his dinner.

All in all, the day had been absolutely terrible.

And now, this was the last straw. His bear has a rip. It'd probably been there for a while and he hadn't noticed. It was pretty big now. Stuffing was sticking out from the torn fabric, the bear sagging softly. Radar had no idea how to fix it. Stupid as it is, he feels like he's about to cry. 

"Hey, Radar, I need a favor!"

Radar puts the bear down on the bed as he turns to Hawkeye.

"Yeah, sure, what do you need?"

"I need three eggs and- hey, kid, you alright?"

Hawkeye's mischievous expression fades to one of worry.

"I'm fine. You need three eggs and what else?"

"Forget that. You look like someone just kicked your puppy. What's going on?"

"It's nothing. It's stupid."

"It's not stupid if it's making you sad. Now tell Aunt Hawkeye what's wrong."

"My bear has a rip," Radar says quietly. He holds up the bear for Hawkeye to see. "And it's not a big deal, but today has just been one bad thing after another, so it was the cherry on top of everything else, and I don't know how to fix it, so the rip will just keep getting bigger until he falls apart completely."

Hawkeye gently takes the bear from him. He studies the rip for a second.

"Lucky for you, I happen to be a surgeon. I can stitch him up easy-peasy. He'll barely even have a scar. C'mon, I've got some thread back at the Swamp."

Hawkeye marches out before Radar can say anything else. He hurries after Hawkeye, following him into the tent. Radar settles on a chair as Hawkeye rummages around for some supplies. He pulls out a needle and some brown thread, smiling triumphantly.

"Usually my patients are a lot bigger and less stuffed, but I think he'll pull through just fine."

True to his word, Hawkeye makes quick work of the sewing. By the time he pulls the final knot, it looks like the rip was never even there. He hands the bear back to Radar.

"See? Good as new."

"Thank you. Really." Radar shoots him a genuine smile, holding the bear tight against his chest.

"No worries, kid. Now go get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day."

"G'night, Sir."

"Night."

As Radar heads back to his tent, he has a feeling that Hawkeye is right. Tomorrow is going to be a better day.

[piercintyre78]

Wintering

Hawkeye writes Trapper letters. The letters are different from the ones he writes to his father. He writes to his father so that he can remember where he comes from. He writes to Trapper so that he doesn’t forget where he’s going. He tells his father about all the things he’s doing, and he expects his father to read between the lines. He tells Trapper about all the things he’s feeling—and he expects Trapper to read between the lines.

Hawkeye writes to his father every week. He only writes to Trapper when he’s sure he’s losing his mind.

Hawkeye’s father writes back, so that the distance between Korea and Maine doesn’t feel insurmountable.

Trapper never actually writes Hawkeye, and so, the distance between the 4077th and Boston seems to stretch across two lifetimes.

Except—

Hawkeye doesn’t really need any letters from Trapper. He doesn’t hunger to know things about Trapper’s life the way he yearns for news from Crabapple Cove. And anyway, all of the things that Trapper sends in place of words are enough.

(Brown paper parcels, tied up with string.)

These are just a few of Hawkeye’s favorite things:

October: There’s last month’s issue of Modern Sunbathing (the one magazine Hawkeye doesn’t have a subscription to) with ink-smudged handwriting scrawled across the cover: “PAGE 21”.

(It’s dog eared, too.)

November: A brand new pair of long johns arrives folded under a hastily scribbled note: “Don’t lose these in a poker game, moron.”

(Hawkeye keeps them for a few weeks but ends up giving them to the kid he just patched up and sent off to Seoul.)

December brings a hideous pair of red and green argyle moccasins wrapped in gold tissue paper. The message reads: “So the new guy doesn’t have to suffer your cold feet the way I did.”

(Hawkeye’s chest aches for a day and a night after that one.)

And then, the next week brings a tin of homemade Christmas cookies. No card. Just a small photo of Kathy and Becky opening up their presents under a brightly lit tree.

Hawkeye smiles and pins the photo up next to his bunk.

BJ doesn’t ask any questions when Hawkeye sits down and writes Trapper a letter the next night.

Thanks for the cookies. Happy New Year. I miss you. Please don’t write.

And in January, a box of cigars and a ridiculous blue ascot arrive.

[quordleona03]

Father Mulcahy's glasses

He's hardly aware that he wears them any more. His glasses have framed his view of the world since he was eight and someone noticed he couldn't read the blackboard. He takes them off to sleep, to shower, and rarely ever otherwise. Sometimes he goes to sleep with them still on.

But sometimes he thinks about Hawkeye sliding his glasses off and putting them down somewhere. He thinks about being kissed in a blurry world of shadows and light, where sin isn't sharp-edged and touch is the only clarity.

He thinks about these things, but he keeps his glasses on.

[youngpettyqueen]

Kiss roulette: A romantic kiss (and whatever other kisses you feel like adding) for Charles/Hawkeye.

alright we've got romantic kiss and (rolls dice) 30! which is... kiss to the palm of the hand! aka perfect roll to drive me specifically insane

"I swear I'm gonna be arthritic by the time I'm 35," Hawkeye complains as he tosses his coat over onto his cot. His cot which he ignores, instead dropping down to take a seat beside Charles on his, "Damn this cold..." He mutters, bundling in on Charles' personal space.

Charles sits up from removing his boots. "You certainly complain like an arthritic old man," He replies drily. He notices Hawkeye is rubbing at his right wrist again, though, his expression drawn into a grimace, "Is that still bothering you?" He asks.

Hawkeye nods. "It's been killing me since yesterday," He admits, "Think I did one 12 hour shift too many, and this deep freeze doesn't help." He flexes his fingers with a wince.

Charles can sympathize- there are days he feels like his hands might go ahead and fall right off. "Here," He holds a hand out to him, "Let me."

Hawkeye gives him his hand, apparently in an agreeable mood. He usually is when they're alone- less prying eyes, especially with the tarps down to protect against the cold giving the added bonus of nobody being able to just look into the tent. Charles is quietly glad for it, since it means Hawkeye can bundle up against him and share his body heat.

He gently rubs Hawkeye's wrist, and the reaction is immediate. Hawkeye sinks against him with a quiet groan, all but melting into a puddle against his side. Charles allows himself a private smile, holding Hawkeye's hand close to his chest as he massages the stiffness out of the joint.

"Charles." He mumbles, a bit muffled as he's squished his cheek right up against Charles' shoulder.

"Hm?" Charles hums, focused on his task.

"You could make a guy believe in Heaven." Hawkeye informs him.

Charles chuckles at that. "It's just as I've always said. I do one thing," He brings Hawkeye's hand up closer to his face, "I do it very well. And then," He presses a kiss to Hawkeye's palm, smiles at the second little groan that earns him, "I move on."

Hawkeye turns his face up to look at him. "Where were you thinking of moving on to?" He asks, big, eager grin on his face.

Charles replies by showing him- ducking down and pressing his next kiss to Hawkeye's lips.

They have an hour before BJ's post-OP shift is over. Better make the most of it.

[shatteredwriters]

Take a break, pull up a chair, and settle in for a random MASH Headcanon:

Missouri was cold this time of year. The church felt even colder. Soft organ music filled the room, with small pockets of people congregating in various pews. All still wore their coats and scarves. All were in black.

The service was set to start at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, giving those people coming in from out of state time to get there. Margaret was early as usual, her punctuality, finely honed in the Army, one of the many guidelines she implemented in her life. Charles came next. He squeezed Margaret’s hand as he slid into the seat beside her.

Then, people they hadn’t seen in years began to trickle in. It seemed the entire unit was invited. They all began to sit in and around one another, filling up one side of the church. There were handkerchiefs passed around, tearful smiles, gentle nods of acknowledgment.

At 4:01, the doors creaked open and three men shuffled in. They sat in the back, doing their best to not disturb the service that had only just begun. One carried a box, the second a brown bag, the third a small wooden container.

They were the last ones to rise to pay their respects. They clapped hands or kissed cheeks with those they passed. Waiting for them at the front were Margaret, Klinger, Father Mulcahy, and Charles.

Nobody moved for a few seconds. They all just looked around at one another a little uncertainly. They hadn’t seen each other in some time, and their planned reunion for the following summer had come earlier than they expected…

B.J. and Hawkeye broke them all out of their reverie. They moved quickly to embrace Margaret first, and then everyone else in close succession, tears in their eyes and sad smiles on their faces.

Radar hung back a little, watching the hugs and handshakes. He wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to be there with them. He almost hadn’t come at all, standing outside the church doors too afraid to come in. But seeing Hawkeye and B.J. had bolstered his resolve—he’d take this solemn opportunity to bid farewell to a man he admired and looked up. Radar didn’t get that chance the first time around.

Klinger and Father Mulcahy noticed Radar’s hesitation and pulled him into the group.

They had something they had to do. All of them.

Glasses were taken from the box and a bottle of brandy from the brown bag. All seven remaining members of the 4077 raised their drinks together.

Father Mulcahy whispered a small prayer.

“To Sherman,” the old members of the Swamp said in unison.

“To the Colonel,” Margaret said to herself, wiping at her cheeks.

“Til we meet again,” Klinger added, his eyes raised to the heavens.

“Rest easy,” Radar finished quietly.

Hawkeye and B.J. left hand in hand, promising they’d see everyone at the Potter’s farm that evening. Charles and Margaret were right behind them, with Klinger and Father Mulcahy paying one final respect before heading towards the door. Only Radar remained. He opened the wooden container in his hand, placed something on the light stained wood, and left.

The church was empty and silent. Six white roses lay atop the casket, forming a small but beautiful offering from six grieving friends. Right below was a horseshoe. It was polished and shining, with an engraving at the top.

Thank you for everything. We’ll miss you. Love, Radar

[wild-lavender-rose]

M*A*S*H* Masterlist

-One-shots -

Hawkeye Pierce

A Perfect Dream

- Hurt/Comfort -

Hurt/Comfort Alphabet Prompt List

Hawkeye Pierce

Forgotten

Falling

Heatstroke

Bitter Kisses

Hawkeye Pierce x reader x B.J. Hunnicutt

Just a Cough

That Time of the Month

We’ve Got You

B.J. Hunnicutt

Accident

Sleep

Idiot

Hurts to Breathe

Just Sleepy

Trapper John McIntyre

Best Medicine

- Drabbles -

Hawkeye Pierce

#1- Whose blood is that?

#2- Rest Now

- Series - 

Hawkeye Pierce

Confessions

Fanfic Masterlist

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

2022 (Fanfiction) in Review

Fics Written This Year

One-Shots

In the Morning (Doctor Strange x OC)

Not a Date (Doctor Strange x OC)

Desperate Times (Doctor Strange x OC)

Rough Day (Doctor Strange x OC)

What Are We Doing? (Doctor Strange x OC)

A Date You'll Never Remember (Steven Grant x OC)

A Moment You Won't Forget (Jake Lockley x OC)

Laundry and Taxes (Doctor Strange x OC)

I See Queen Mad Hath Been With You (Eddie Munson x OC)

Welcome to Hellfire (Eddie Munson x OC)

Pretty Girls and Ice Cream (Eddie Munson x OC)

Jealousy and Scrunchies (Eddie Munson x OC)

Will You Miss Me? (Hob Gadling x OC)

One Day I'll Hate You (Goncharov x Reader)

Drabbles

asking you on a date (Doctor Strange x Reader)

tending to your wounds (Doctor Strange x Clumsy!Reader)

peter setting you up on a date (Doctor Strange x Reader)

strange finding confident cassandra kinda hot (Doctor Strange x OC)

kissing top of their head (Clone Trooper Kix x Reader)

touching their elbow to get their attention (Din Djarin x OC)

"I want you to tell me something you've never told anyone else." (Poe Dameron x OC)

Old Family Cure All (Doctor Strange x OC)

Why Am I So Romantic (Doctor Strange x OC)

braiding the other’s hair (Hawkeye Pierce x OC)

Who I Was Before (Doctor Strange x OC)

bandaging/stitching up an injury (Poe Dameron x Reader)

kissing their bruises and scars (Bodhi Rook x Reader)

“I’ll help you study.” (Loki x Sigyn)

hug (Thrawn x Reader)

dancing with each other (Conqueror!Sigyn x President!Loki)

steven protecting you (Steven Grant x Reader)

watching steven sleep (Steven Grant x OC)

bumping noses while kissing (Steven Grant x OC)

"I've had a miserable day at work" + "kissing your lovers wounds" (Din Djarin x OC)

forehead touch (Steven Grant x OC)

It’s Been a Long Day (Doctor Strange x OC)

stargazing (Steven Grant x OC)

At Sunrise (Doctor Strange x OC)

You Wanna Kiss Me So Bad (Eddie Munson x OC)

"No way, you're ticklish." (Eddie Munson x OC)

holding the other’s jaw (Thrawn x Reader)

shielding the other one with their body (Thrawn x Reader)

"We'll face this together" (Matt Murdock x Reader)

dancing with each other (Doctor Strange x Reader)

falling asleep on the other's shoulder (Hawkeye Pierce x OC)

never enough (Captain Gregor x Reader)

taking the other’s hand to look for injuries (Thrawn x Reader)

massages them (Loki x Sigyn)

relieved kisses (Eddie Munson x Reader)

a kiss on the hand (Loki x Sigyn)

life or death kisses (Thrawn x Reader)

passionate kisses (Thrawn x Reader)

a bout of humility (Morpheus x OC)

to every end and every beginning (Morpheus x OC)

comforting hug (Bruce Banner x Reader)

kisses for a cover (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go (Din Djarin x Reader)

Other

5 Sentence Fics

Hope of Morning Masterlist (Morpheus x OC x Hob Gadling)

The Witch of Hell's Kitchen Masterlist (Doctor Strange x OC)

Lost in Moonlight Masterlist (Steven Grant x OC)

Lucy x Eddie Headcanon Masterlist

Takeaways from reflecting on your kick-ass writing, or kick-ass lack of writing: 

I wrote a lot more than I gave myself credit for, even if I haven't really been posting much the last few months. I guess because I haven't been getting the engagement I used to it felt as if I wasn't posting enough. The amount of writing wasn't the problem. I guess that's what I get for focusing on OCs.

I really do prefer writing OCs over Reader Inserts. Reader Inserts can be fun, but I think playing around with a full character allows for more specific and therefor more fulfilling situation and interactions, at least for me.

Most surprising fic you wrote this year:

Eddie Munson took me by the god damn throat. Stranger Things has been one of my favorite shows for 6 years and it's this asshole that finally gave me the inspiration to write a character for it. The sheer amount I wrote for him and Lucy in the span of six months is frankly obscene.

How you grew as a writer this year: 

I think speed was the main thing. The simple fact that a thousand words in one sitting became the norm for me for a while is really impressive. Now I just need to put that energy into an original work.

What’s coming in 2023:

I really am going to try and write something original. I'll likely continue with OCs and mostly write for myself than requests. I've found it more fulfilling and frankly, I think a lot of younger/new users don't know how to give prompts without giving a summary of a fic. I'm not here to get "tumblr famous". I'm just here for a good time.

[ao3feed-mash]

Keeping Secrets

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/irKbnsN

by Anonymous

We dance round in a ring and suppose, But the Secret sits in the middle and knows. - Robert Frost

Words: 100, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: MASH (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Charles Emerson Winchester III

Relationships: Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce/Charles Emerson Winchester III

Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Feelings, Confessions, Drabble

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/irKbnsN

[oldschoolfic-ds9]

The 1950′s Bashir

by RMorris, 2000

Charles may be humbled, but never humble.....

Words: 100, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: G

Warnings: none listed

Characters: Charles Winchester (MASH), Hawkeye Pierce (MASH)

Relationships: none listed

Reader suggested tags (what are these?): humor, drabble, crossover - MASH, DS9 concept in MASH setting

links (link broken? report it and try the archive.org alternative):

trekiverse

archive.org - option 1 / option 2

[make-me-imagine]

Cheer Up

Prompts: 'Cool warmth when the sun breaks the horizon in the early morning' + “I’m trying to cheer you up.” Requested by: @maellem (you requested this a year ago lmao, sorry for the long wait)

Warnings: Brief mentions of causalities and surgery (nothing graphic)

Word Count: 708 (short and sweet)

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire MASH Taglist: @thatadroitgeek, @whimsical-daydreams, @meganlpie, @hybrid-omegaverse

-

As you exited the Post Op room after your shift, you looked around the camp. You could only see one or two people walking around, as the day had just barely begun.

You shoved your hands into your pockets as you wandered through the camp, with no real destination in mind. You weren't tired, and had no real desire to go back to your tent at all, you were maybe a bit hungry though.

As the sun began to peak up over the horizon, you felt a shiver run up your body. You were cold, but as the early morning sunlight hit you, it warmed you ever so slightly.

Your eyes caught on a figure, basically stumbling from the showers. A disheveled Hawkeye exited, towel around his shoulders, and his familiar red robe on. As he walked, his eyes were cast downward. You smiled, and felt a familiar wave of butterflies in your stomach that only appeared when you see him.

"Morning Hawkeye." You said with a smile as he walked past you, unaware of your presence.

Hawkeye, upon hearing your voice, looked up, and smiled in greeting. "Y/n, what a lovely surprise."

His smile was bright, but you could see in his eyes he had a rough night. There had been more causalities than normal, you knew he had been in surgery for a long time. He had managed to get an hour or two of sleep, but he had another shift this morning.

You smiled in return, but there was a bit of pity behind it. "Rough night?" You questioned.

He was about to make a joke, but seeing the sincerity and worry in your eyes, surely from your unusual knack of seeing right through him. He gave you and almost sad smile, "Yeah" He said simply, with a small nod.

You gave him your own sad smile, "Have you eaten?"

He shook his head, feeling his own heart hammering at your presence. You had your usual worry and care that you always seemed to have for him. He'd probably have starved many a time after a long shift if you weren't there to give him a kick in the pants.

"Want me to get you something? I heard that the eggs are almost actually eggs today."

He smiled at you, "As appealing as that does not sound, I don't think my stomach is ready for that yet."

You smiled in amusement, "Coffee then?" You offered.

Hawkeye gave you an amused smile, but it held a hint of adoration behind it. "You don't have to take care of me Y/n, we all have rough nights here."

You shook your head a bit, "I'm not trying to take care of you Hawk."

"Then what are you doing?"

You shrugged your shoulder a bit and smiled, "I'm trying to cheer you up."

He stared at you for a moment before a smile broke across his face again, this time more genuine. Taking a step closer, he peered down at you. The butterflies rampaged through you now, and you were sure he somehow knew about them.

Moving to stand at your side, he lied his arm across your shoulder, making your heart begin to beat rapidly. "Just seeing your face and hearing your voice did that Y/n." He said, and he surely saw the way your face flushed from the comment, because you saw a sly smile cross his face before he spoke again.

"Thanks for the compliment, but I doubt that." You admitted, trying to push down the lump in your throat.

He shook his head "I promise it's true. You are one of the only people here that I don't think I could survive without." Without giving much pause, and not allowing you to respond, he continued. "But I'll tell you what. How about we go get some coffee together, and after we line our stomachs with that liquid lead, we'll have breakfast."

You smiled, trying to push down the bashfulness you were feeling, you looked up at him and smiled, nodding lightly. "Sounds good to me."

He grinned down at you, his arm still around your shoulder as you made your way towards the mess tent. "Great. And hey, Y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for cheering me up."

xx End xx

Sorry it's so short, but I am trying to get out as many of my older requests as I can!

If you'd like to be added to my MASH taglist, let me know~

[optimistic-turpitude]

Sometimes, BJ thinks about why he wears red and pink as often as he does.

He used to think it was to ground Hawkeye, remind him that there's a world outside of the military landscape, and add a little flash of color to his own day. Then he thought it must be the smile his best friend sends him. Now, switching the grayish green tshirt he was going to wear for his pink henley after Hawkeye began yet another Trapper-centric tale, he's starting to realize it feels less like altruism and more like possessiveness.

He wears red because he wants to be the brightness in Hawkeye's day. That's reasonable, Hawkeye is his friend, Peg calls him part of the family, of course he wants to make Hawkeye happy.

He wants Hawkeye to look across a sea of green people and lock onto him without fail.

He wants to see Hawkeye, exhausted and war-weary, sink his gaze right into BJ and drown with a smile, the smile he feels was made for him.

He wants all of Hawkeye's attention, all of the time.

That's a little less reasonable.

And maybe it's always been like this, but now he confronts it everytime he ignores his other shirts and puts on that stupid pink henley.

He's worried one of these days the sight of Hawkeye winking at yet another nurse with red lips is going to drive him to steal Margaret's favorite lipstick and make some choices he can't joke his way out of.

For now, he puts on the henley and flashes Hawk a smile, already reaching for a tangent to push Hawkeye into their familiar back and forth.

He can think about colors later, he's got Hawkeye's eyes on him right now.

[etriva]

BJ lowers the letter from home, staring into the middle distance and frowning. Hawkeye's beside him on the bunk, reading through the latest edition of the Crabapple Cove Courier. He casts a sideways glance at BJ, gauging, before asking, "What's wrong?"

"Not wrong..." BJ says. It's not convincing.

"But not right."

"No, it's--" BJ breathes deeply, exhales a sigh. "Peg asked how many people we usually operate on. When I tried to do the math, I realized: almost everybody I've touched in Korea was wounded."

Hawkeye leans into him, giving him a wry smile. "What do you mean, almost everybody?"

[acesthetically-pleasing]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: MASH (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, "Trapper" John McIntyre & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Benjamin Frankling "Hawkeye" Pierce/OFC Additional Tags: 52 aspec drabbles, Aromantic Character, Grayromantic Character, 9+1, aromantic replies to love confessions, Angst, angsty ending, canon angsty ending, Aromantic Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Bisexual Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, POV Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, mentions of patient's death Series: Part 42 of 52 aspec drabbles/ficlets Summary:

„I don't react too well to love declarations,” he confessed still focused on the sock dilemma. „Especially when I'm busy having a good time!”

„Hawk?”

Hawkeye hummed in response, looking up to meet Trapper's charming grin.

„I love you.”

„Good for you.”

Nine times Hawkeye doesn't have a good answer to a love confession and one time he doesn't even have an option to respond.

35th of 52 aspec drabbles (I will finish this series one day, so help me whoever)

[quordleona03]

keep breathing

Breakfast: He says a blessing. The food is bad, but he's fasted since before midnight the day before. Dried egg, pancakes, coffee. Hawkeye sits across from him and two down, head down, stirring sugar into his coffee.

Lunch: A blessing on bad food. He tries to remember how hungry the Koreans are, to make himself mean the blessing. Hawkeye is in post-op, shoulders hunched with weariness.

Supper: A muttered blessing over sandwiches, brought to the operating room. He holds the sandwich to Hawkeye's mouth, feeding him carefully. It's a day. A night.

He counts his blessings. Food. Shelter. (Hawkeye.) Sleep.

[thebreakfastgenie]

Here's the MASH drabble I wrote. I reserve the right to cannibalize any parts of this for longer fics in the future.

Sending Hawkeye Pierce to Korea was like putting a beating heart through a meat grinder. Anyone who knew him understood instinctively that it was a spectacularly terrible idea. There was too much of Hawkeye, too much in him that was bright and beautiful, to come out of Korea in anything but pieces. And yet, how many boys lived, because the choppers and the ambulances delivered them to Captain Pierce’s table? How many Korean men, women, and children saw another day, because once they were touched by the surgeon’s hands of Hawkeye Pierce? On the balance, asks the world, wasn’t it worth it? But the empty eyes don’t answer. There is much less life there, now, and much more death.

[kanerallels]

Philinda mistletoe ft Bus Kids/team shenanigans? 👀

This one got a little longer, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

“So, you’re the real live Hawkeye, huh?” Daisy asked, eyeing the brown-haired man in front of her. He didn’t really look like a superhero, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket as he was. The only thing that made him stand out from the other agents in the room was the quiver of arrows on his back.

Taking a drink from his mug of eggnog, Clint nodded. “That’s me. Your friends can vouch for me if you don’t believe it.”

Daisy followed his nod to Fitz and Simmons, who were standing right next to each other. “Wha– you guys didn’t tell me you knew Hawkeye!”

“Of course we know Agent Barton– well, not well,” Simmons amended. “But we know of him, and Fitz worked on one of his arrows once.”

“Fixed a major glitch with one of the trick arrows,” Clint said, giving Fitz a nod. “I owe you for that one.”

Looking embarrassed, Fitz said, “Well, it’s my job, and I wasn’t gonna let it go out in the field how it was, could have taken your head off.”

“Yeah, glad that didn’t happen,” Clint said with a grimace. He was about to say something else, but his attention was pulled away by something else. Daisy followed his gaze to where Coulson and May were walking into the room, side by side.

“I see those two are still… politely more than friends but not willing to go any farther,” Clint said, lifting an eyebrow. “Apparently, not much changes.”

“Something like that,” Daisy said, rolling her eyes.

“And it’s Christmas, too,” Simmons said with a sigh. “If only we could do something.”

“Well,” Daisy said slowly, an idea growing in her mind, “maybe we can.” Glancing at Clint, she said, “You don’t have any kind of trick arrow that’ll stick to the wall above someone’s head, do you?”

“I do,” Clint said. “And I see where your mind is going– not sure if I like it or not.”

“Consider this the way you’re paying off the favor you owe Fitz,” Daisy suggested.

“What? Oh, no, I do not want to be involved in this,” Fitz said immediately. No one listened to him.

“Okay,” Clint said dubiously. “Why not? Now we just need some–”

“Mistletoe?” Simmons said, holding up a small bouquet of it. Everyone looked at her, startled, and she blushed. “What? I came prepared.”

“I have many questions, but we can deal with them later,” Daisy said, snatching it out of her friend’s hand and passing it to Clint. “Do your thing.”

He plucked an arrow from his quiver and quickly tied the bouquet to it. Grabbing the bow from where it rested next to him, he gave it a flick that opened it completely, then nocked the arrow and shot in one smooth movement.

The shot was, of course, perfect. The arrow slammed into the wall above Coulson and May’s heads, and they both looked up, startled, then at the source of the shot.

“Really?” May said, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the party. She sounded irritated, but not surprised. Coulson mostly looked amused.

Shrugging, Clint said, “Sorry, boss– tis the season. And it was the kid’s idea.”

“Hey!” Daisy protested, but Clint ignored her as he kept talking.

“You really gonna turn your nose up at tradition?”

May looked very tempted to come over and show Clint her opinion on tradition, but Coulson caught hold of her arm and said something quietly to her that made her roll her eyes, a small smile lurking at the corner of her mouth as she nodded. And then Coulson moved forward and kissed her.

“Awww,” Simmons breathed.

“Ugh,” Fitz said, making a face, and Simmons smacked him.

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Clint said to Daisy, shaking his head in amusement. “You get what you wanted?”

“Maybe,” Daisy said thoughtfully. “It’s missing something, though– ah-ha!” Putting two fingers in her mouth, she let out a piercing wolf whistle. Turning to Clint she said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go hide where May will never find me.”

“She seems a little busy, but that does seem like a good plan,” Clint agreed. “Good to meet you.”

“You, too!”

Christmas drabble ask game!