Hello fellow MASH friends! I'm sorry this update is so late- anyhow, this chapter is mostly a filler. Sorry to pull one of these, but its important to help keep things moving. Reviews are gifts!

"Ok, everyone, time to play the daily game of: 'what crawled up Charles's shorts this morning?'! Beej, why don't you start?" Hawkeye drawled dramatically as he picked at his food, smirking at the bostonian who sat down with a grunt. He looked like hell warmed over; tired, dark circles that hung in bags under his eyes. He scowled at Pierce from across the breakfast table, trying to drown out the headache inducing noise of the morning mess tent.

"Mmmhh, let's see…" BJ tapped his fingers on the table as he peered curiously at Charles before turning back to his friend. "Garden snake, maybe?"

"I was going for Klinger's lost panty hoes, but that works, too." Hawkeye agreed nonchalantly.

"Please, cease your infernal yapping, you two… I have a pounding migraine as it is and the last thing I need is your unbearable chit chat." Charles moaned miserably, nursing his cup of coffee.

Margaret, who sat across from the major, gave him a sympathetic look before turning to glare at the two captains. "Can't you guys ever take a hint? The poor man's obviously not in the mood for your moronic antics." She scolded.

The two mischief makers glanced at one another, as if they could speak a secret language with just their eyes, before Hawkeye gave an imperceptible nod and turned to Margaret seductively. "Would you care to channel that energy into romance?" He asked in a low purr before jokingly fingering his oxygen cannula, "Because you just took my breath away."

The strict major open and closed her mouth with incredulity while BJ laughed in support of his friend, earning a satisfied grin from Hawkeye. Even Charles, whose hangover had made him nearly insufferable, quirked the corner of his lips up in a smile no one would ever see.

"Captain, please! Don't tell me you've resorted to joking about a very serious disease!" She snapped, nodding to the black haired doctor.

Hawkeye, who was used to people constantly gawking at his ability to poke fun at his illness, gave a mock frown and folded his arms resolutely, turning to his blonde partner in crime. "She's right, BJ. Let's get serious." He exclaimed in his best army general impersonation.

BJ, knowing his cue by heart, nodded along and in perfect unison, the duo flashed the major by pulling their shirts up and howling girlishly, managing to run out before Margaret could hit either of them with her spoon. They earned laughs and stares from the mess tent crowd as they pulled off their perfect escape, leaving the major blushing furiously in the midst of it all.

"That never gets old," Hawkeye mused happily as they made their way back to the swamp, his oxygen tank slung over his shoulder in his signature backpack with pins of marilyn monroe, I LIKE IKE, and groucho glasses designs pinned and sewn to the fabric.

"Do you think she'll ever catch us before we get to the finale?" BJ wondered aloud, opening the door to the swamp for his friend.

Hawkeye shook his head and flopped down on their bed, reaching for his deluxe edition of playboy magazine before thumbing through the pages. "Probably not. I like to think of her mind as one of those 20's style alarm clocks. You know, the ones we had when we were kids? It only has one setting: loud and annoying."

BJ couldn't help but laugh out loud while he prepared to administer his friend's medication, carefully measuring out the rose colored liquid in millimeters based on the marked lines of the vials. "I dunno, pal, that sounds a bit like the pot calling the kettle black." He smirked, walking over to sit beside his friend.

Hawkeye balked in a fake hurt expression, clutching at his heart. "You think I'm annoying?" He gasped, pretending to faint.

BJ raised an eyebrow and shoved at his friend playfully, earning a minor curse from Hawkeye. "Nah, I'm just sayin' we're both a little… how should we put this… odd?" He muttered, pushing lightly at his brother's shirt collar, moving it away so he had access to the port implanted in his chest. It had been installed just last month by BJ himself, a longer than expected five hour procedure of inserting a plastic tube into the arterial vein so that he wouldn't have to be poked so much when administering meds. But, ultimately so, nothing ever came easy for Hawkeye Pierce. There were numerous complications that BJ would have never foreseen. His heart rate was too slow, his vitals were unstable, and he got a nasty infection just a day after the surgery was completed. So, now, every time BJ got a look at a healthy surgical incision scar with no sign of problems, he was immensely grateful and breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Odd? Thank heavens, Beej, for a second there I thought I was normal! God forbid such a horrid fate!" He recited in his best shakespearean voice, not even noticing as his friend inserted the needle into his chest, hooking it up to the IV pole before crawling into bed beside him like the ever faithful man he was. Hawkeye often likened him to a golden retriever; both blonde, playful, and loyal.

"Any pain lately?" BJ asked seriously, giving his friend's chest one last look before pulling his shirt back up.

Hawkey shrugged, leaning back against the pillows. "No, not really… Just a back ache from the erythropoietin. Nothing exciting."
BJ nodded in satisfaction. "Good."

The two lay in comfortable silence for about 15 minutes, each flipping through their own respective magazines, before, without any warning, the dreadful intercom sounded.

"Attention all personnel; incoming wounded on the compound. Better roll your sleeves up, folks. This one's a doozy."

The pair groaned in sync, Hawkeye covering his face with a page depicting a topless Marilyn Monroe while BJ threw a hand over his eyes wearily.

"Why can't we pause the war, Beej? Call it on account of bad weather?" Hawkeye muttered bitterly, forcing his aching body up as he grabbed his stethoscope and lab coat.

"I'm all for it. Let's agree to come back and play tomorrow." BJ grunted, and the two ran out to the compound where ambulances were rushing in wounded soldiers. Nurses were bustling around like nervous honey bees, and Klinger could be seen helping father Mulcahy loading soldiers onto stretchers.

"Get this kid prepped for OR with two pints of whole blood," Hawkeye called to nurse Bigelow as he examined the young man who lay bleeding before him. The woman nodded curtly before carrying him away, leaving the surgeon to prepare to scrub up.

"I cannot believe my precious french wine betrayed me so," Charles was moaning all throughout preparation, rubbing his temples miserably as he slipped on his white smock and a nurse tied on his mask.

"Rough night, champ?" Hawkeye joked casually as a nurse gloved him.

Charles glared menacingly at the brunette doctor. "Be glad you're not in peak physical condition Pierce, otherwise I would not hesitate to introduce your face to my fist."

Hawkeye sneered sarcastically back at him while BJ whistled in disbelief. "Geez, Charles, that's a little harsh, even for you. How much did you drink last night?" The blonde man asked, following the two into OR where their patients lay waiting.

Charles avoided his glance, cheeks turning a slight pink shade while he looked away. "To be honest, I don't remember."

Hawkeye howled in laughter, which put a smile on BJ's face, hidden underneath his mask.