ooh, yes, please!

Well, there's this.

• **

"What, Again?"

• **

Why am I doing this to myself?

Falling in love again.

I mean, I’ve known for years that falling in love only ends in hurt, even if you manage to pick a relatively conventional object for your affections. People I love leave me—and before you cry, “oh, Hawkeye, that’s not true!” in your best comforting-friend voice, let me give you a few pieces of evidence.

Firstly, my mother. I know it was ‘natural causes’, not my fault, or hers: but that doesn’t change the facts. I loved her, and she died.

My father nearly left me, too, you know. He was so wrapped in his own grief it took him years to reach out and notice mine.

Stop looking like you pity me, you with your comfortable wife. These are facts; I’m not upset. See? Calm.

Secondly, Robert in ninth grade. I can’t even remember his full name now, but at the time I was head-over-heels in love with him. He didn’t care—although he probably, I hope, didn’t know. He never let me play on his soccer team, and the next year his parents moved to Texas.

I’m telling you because if you’re going to pretend to be my friend, you ought to know.

Of course, I’m drunk as well: though I don’t think I’ll regret this when I’m sober.

Thirdly, Carley. She knew how I felt, all right. She said she loved me; she said we’d get married when I had enough money; and then she walked out on me. You met her; you know how lovely she is. I was going to spend the rest of my life with her, but she walked out.

Fourthly (It’s a word. I’m drunk and I say so), there was Trapper.

Yeah, I loved him. Didn’t you guess from the way I talk about him? I joked to hide it, but I loved him and he left without so much as a goodbye.

Who is it now? As if I’d tell you. I’m not so drunk I don’t think you’d tell him.

It might be. Might be a her, of course. Slip of the tongue.

Nah, I’d have to be crazy as well as drunk before I told you how I feel about… Top my glass up, would you? Thanks.

In other fic news, I'm fighting the temptation to see if M*A*S*H mpreg is a good way to send up the genre. Please, someone stop me making Hawkeye pregnant?

And Hawkeye himself referred to his robe as 'purple' (during the episode where he was sent to the Evac instead of BJ and thought he was going to die and wrote a will where he left his robe to Charles - because purple is the colour of royalty), even though it is patently red and you might stretch that to burgandy.

Context? I'm a thousand-flipping posts behind in Bitches. I don't got time for no stinking context.

Please, someone stop me making Hawkeye pregnant?

Just. Say. NO.

That's true, Elena. (I remember the, um, debate.) Hum... the Hawkeye is colourblind bunny. It's got to be better than mpreg, right?

Just. Say. NO.

I'm trying, I'm trying. Back, foul bunny!

Carlye? Is that a canonical spelling?

Is that a canonical spelling?

I believe so, yes. From the end credits of the episode in question, unless I mis-read.

Edit: I did mis-read, or mis-type. It should be Carley.

Edit again: I fixed it. Now you look like a crazy person!

No pregnant Hawkeye. My mind flatly refuses to go there.....

I do like it when you have him speaking, Am. Lovely voice, you've got for him.