The Ballad of Trapper and Hawkeye
It wasn't tortured with Trapper. He wasn't someone who worried about sex. One day he came bounding into the Swamp, home early from a date with a nurse, and surprised Hawkeye who was lying on his back, robe open, doing by himself what he was too tired to find a nurse to participate in. And Trap looked down at Hawkeye, who was mostly naked and holding his dick in his hand, sat down on the cot next to him, and said "Can I help?"
Hawkeye felt his dick twitch a little in his hand when Trapper said that, and there was really no answer to give but "okay," and, just like that, Benjamin Franklin Pierce realized he was bisexual. Not that he hadn't suspected; if he hadn't caught on by the time he got to Korea, living in a tent with three other guys will give you a bit of a clue as to your proclivities. Now one of those guys was gripping his penis with exactly the right amount of pressure and speed, and Hawkeye could do nothing but try to suppress his own moans.
He came all over his stomach, Trapper grinning down at him, and Hawkeye wondered what he was supposed to do next here. Trapper answered the question before Hawkeye could even vocalize it – he cleaned Hawkeye off with a sock he'd found on the floor, and said "Goodnight now. Don't let the bedbugs bite," as he went to lie down on his own cot, leaving Hawkeye to spend the rest of the night figuring out exactly what had happened there.
After that it was buddy sex from time to time, whenever they couldn't find another partner or didn't have the energy to woo someone. Late-night blowjobs in the supply tent, quick encounters in the Swamp when Frank was off with Margaret. Once, and only once, Trapper got in the shower with Hawkeye and gave him a whole new perspective on shampoo.
Sex with Trapper was happy sex – no strings attached, no penetration, no lies to imply about a future together. Quite possibly the happiest sex Hawkeye had ever had; he couldn't remember when he'd slept with someone who wanted the exact same thing he did, no more and no less. Sex with someone he loved, who didn't require fidelity or plans for the future. When Hawkeye did think about the future, he'd ponder how nice it would be to find a woman just like Trap.
They didn't do a whole lot of kissing; it was a little too tender for their cheerful, casual sex, although once there was a bit of a fellatio accident and Trapper ended up with his face dripping, even his eyelashes wet. Hawkeye thought, for a second, that Trapper was going to be angry, but instead he started to laugh and Hawkeye thought he just might remember that image for the rest of his life – Trapper John, covered in semen, laughing. He knew, for a fact, he'd be masturbating to the memory for years.
It didn't matter that they didn't kiss, because it wasn't a relationship. They didn't claim to be in love. They were best friends, and they had sex. And if it was a lot of sex, a lot of extremely good sex, that actually didn't matter much because Trapper had a wife and kids back home, and Hawkeye thought he might like a set himself one day.
And if there were those three days in Tokyo when they didn't bother to find geisha girls? Well, that was just because they were too tired to go meet strange women when they were both already right there in their room and half-dressed. That was also the weekend they broke their unspoken rule about penetration, and like all the rules that Trapper and Hawkeye broke, they broke it with ferocious passion and medical precision. It's a good thing they were doctors, because they would never have survived sitting all the way back on the plane without heavy-duty painkillers.
After the leave in Tokyo, though, nothing seemed quite right any more. It was hard to go back to secret hand jobs when they'd spent three days naked, and hard to remember that this wasn't a relationship when they'd woken up spooned together in bed. Sneaking around to unoccupied tents stopped seeming like an extra thrill and just felt like a hassle. It was less like happy sex and more like something nearly as sordid as the war going on around them.
Hawkeye managed to wangle them another three days in Tokyo, or thought he had, but at the last minute Frank wouldn't let them both go. He insisted that Trapper was needed in camp. With no excuse not to leave, Hawkeye went to Tokyo by himself and spent three days as drunk as possible, making sure to only visit bars he'd never been to with Trapper. Since he'd been drunk in most of Tokyo with Trapper at one time or another, it gave staying drunk a certain satisfying challenge.
Despite all his protestations when Radar broke the news, Hawkeye was not all that surprised when he came back and Trapper was gone. He wasn't surprised there was no note or letter, either, since Trapper was never a man for words. Really, all that surprised him was the kiss, which he knew was the closest he and Trapper could come to a happy ending.
It wasn't tortured with Trapper. He wasn't someone who worried about sex. One day he came bounding into the Swamp, home early from a date with a nurse, and surprised Hawkeye who was lying on his back, robe open, doing by himself what he was too tired to find a nurse to participate in. And Trap looked down at Hawkeye, who was mostly naked and holding his dick in his hand, sat down on the cot next to him, and said "Can I help?"
Hawkeye felt his dick twitch a little in his hand when Trapper said that, and there was really no answer to give but "okay," and, just like that, Benjamin Franklin Pierce realized he was bisexual. Not that he hadn't suspected; if he hadn't caught on by the time he got to Korea, living in a tent with three other guys will give you a bit of a clue as to your proclivities. Now one of those guys was gripping his penis with exactly the right amount of pressure and speed, and Hawkeye could do nothing but try to suppress his own moans.
He came all over his stomach, Trapper grinning down at him, and Hawkeye wondered what he was supposed to do next here. Trapper answered the question before Hawkeye could even vocalize it – he cleaned Hawkeye off with a sock he'd found on the floor, and said "Goodnight now. Don't let the bedbugs bite," as he went to lie down on his own cot, leaving Hawkeye to spend the rest of the night figuring out exactly what had happened there.
After that it was buddy sex from time to time, whenever they couldn't find another partner or didn't have the energy to woo someone. Late-night blowjobs in the supply tent, quick encounters in the Swamp when Frank was off with Margaret. Once, and only once, Trapper got in the shower with Hawkeye and gave him a whole new perspective on shampoo.
Sex with Trapper was happy sex – no strings attached, no penetration, no lies to imply about a future together. Quite possibly the happiest sex Hawkeye had ever had; he couldn't remember when he'd slept with someone who wanted the exact same thing he did, no more and no less. Sex with someone he loved, who didn't require fidelity or plans for the future. When Hawkeye did think about the future, he'd ponder how nice it would be to find a woman just like Trap.
They didn't do a whole lot of kissing; it was a little too tender for their cheerful, casual sex, although once there was a bit of a fellatio accident and Trapper ended up with his face dripping, even his eyelashes wet. Hawkeye thought, for a second, that Trapper was going to be angry, but instead he started to laugh and Hawkeye thought he just might remember that image for the rest of his life – Trapper John, covered in semen, laughing. He knew, for a fact, he'd be masturbating to the memory for years.
It didn't matter that they didn't kiss, because it wasn't a relationship. They didn't claim to be in love. They were best friends, and they had sex. And if it was a lot of sex, a lot of extremely good sex, that actually didn't matter much because Trapper had a wife and kids back home, and Hawkeye thought he might like a set himself one day.
And if there were those three days in Tokyo when they didn't bother to find geisha girls? Well, that was just because they were too tired to go meet strange women when they were both already right there in their room and half-dressed. That was also the weekend they broke their unspoken rule about penetration, and like all the rules that Trapper and Hawkeye broke, they broke it with ferocious passion and medical precision. It's a good thing they were doctors, because they would never have survived sitting all the way back on the plane without heavy-duty painkillers.
After the leave in Tokyo, though, nothing seemed quite right any more. It was hard to go back to secret hand jobs when they'd spent three days naked, and hard to remember that this wasn't a relationship when they'd woken up spooned together in bed. Sneaking around to unoccupied tents stopped seeming like an extra thrill and just felt like a hassle. It was less like happy sex and more like something nearly as sordid as the war going on around them.
Hawkeye managed to wangle them another three days in Tokyo, or thought he had, but at the last minute Frank wouldn't let them both go. He insisted that Trapper was needed in camp. With no excuse not to leave, Hawkeye went to Tokyo by himself and spent three days as drunk as possible, making sure to only visit bars he'd never been to with Trapper. Since he'd been drunk in most of Tokyo with Trapper at one time or another, it gave staying drunk a certain satisfying challenge.
Despite all his protestations when Radar broke the news, Hawkeye was not all that surprised when he came back and Trapper was gone. He wasn't surprised there was no note or letter, either, since Trapper was never a man for words. Really, all that surprised him was the kiss, which he knew was the closest he and Trapper could come to a happy ending.