Title: Jealousy Rears Its Ugly Cowboy Hat
Author: Lisa M
Pairing: BJ/Hawkeye implied; Hawkeye/Trapper suggested
Prompt: #22 Enemies
Rating: 13+
Word Count: 1324
Disclaimer: Last I checked, I didn't own anything.
Summary: BJ really hates that cowboy hat …
Note: Another one that's not an angst-fest. Take that muses!!!
"Do any of you remember that time Trapper …"
As soon as his name is spoken, I feel myself go tense. Hawkeye doesn't notice - he never notices. And why should he? There is no valid reason for the hatred I feel for a man I've never met.
I haven't even seen a picture of him.
Yet, those two syllables spark such a rage within me, that I feel as if I might explode. So, I stand and excuse myself before I say or do something that I'm sure I'll regret later.
"Hey," Hawkeye pauses, mid-story and grabs my arm. "Where're you heading, Beej"
"I need to write a letter to Peg," I say a little too tersely. A little to quickly. His eyes narrow at me suspiciously and his hand tightens on my wrist. I clear my throat and force my tone into a more neutral-sounding one. I pat his hand reassuringly. "Really, I do. I'll see you later, okay?"
"Yeah, okay." He watches me for a moment longer, then turns back to the others and continues speaking. I wait until I'm convinced he's not paying attention, and spin on my heels to leave. As I exit the mess, I glance back and notice him watching me out of the corner of his eyes. It makes me chuckle slightly. A quick wave of dismissal to him and I'm out the door.
My anger builds the closer I get to the Swamp. I throw open the door, stomp inside and slam it against the wood frame - just like a spoiled child having a tantrum would do. But, even though I'm a grown man, I can't help myself.
He's here. His presence is everywhere. This is Trapper's world. I sleep in his bed, hang my scrubs on his hook in pre-op, I drink from the still that he built. I even sleep with the man he slept with first.
Christ, I'm falling in love with …
A huge wave of jealousy floods through me and I shiver in revulsion. I hate feeling like this, so completely out of control, but I allow the irrational emotions to drive me forward. My eyes sweep the dim space within the Swamp. Searching. Searching. Finally, they fall upon the object I'm looking for.
The hat. That stupid cowboy hat. His cowboy hat. Hawkeye has never actually admitted to me that it had once belonged to Trapper, but I know that it did. I can feel it in my gut.
On my first day here, I'd pulled the footlocker (his old footlocker) out from under my bed and had found that hat in it. I tossed it onto the still table and unpacked. When Hawkeye came in and saw it sitting there, his eyes immediately began to sparkle.
"Hey! I've been looking for that!" His voice was filled with barely-restrained joy. He grabbed the hat from the table and flipped it onto his head. "Where'd you find it?"
"In the footlocker under my bed," I'd replied, not even thinking twice about it. "Is it yours?"
"Uh … yeah."
Back then, I hadn't been sure why he'd paused in his answer. At the time, the why's didn't really matter to me. I always just assumed that it was his favorite hat. Kind of like my fishing hat. Once things began to change between Hawkeye and me, as we started to get closer, I realized that he was strangely protective of it. I remember asking to borrow it once and he sort of snapped at me. He hadn't been angry, but his "No, I'd rather you didn't," was very short.
That's when I figured out that he and Trapper had been more than just friends. They had been what we are now.
I pick up the hat and turn it over in my hands. It feels the same as it always does - rough, worn - yet my fingers tingle unpleasantly. I drop it onto Hawkeye's bed. My gaze locks on it and my jealousy begins to morph into something else. White-hot anger races though me as I feel myself focusing, myopically, on the hat. In that moment, I realize I want to destroy the damn thing. Burn it. Toss it into the cesspool. No … I want to rip it into shreds with my bare hands, burn the pieces and THEN throw the ashes into the cesspool. That would be the most personally satisfying thing to do. I can actually picture myself pulling it apart thread by thread and laughing the entire time.
As I am reaching down to grab it, the door to the Swamp swings open and Hawkeye walks in. Startled, I jerk my hand back and turn quickly to the still.
"Hey, Beej." His voice is carefully neutral. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Nothing." The guilty tone in my voice makes me cringe.
"Sure," Hawkeye walks slowly over to his cot. His fingers brush over the corner of the cowboy hat before he reaches out and accepts a martini from me. "You know, if I didn't know you better, I'd swear you were glaring at my hat."
"You're crazy."
"Giving it the evil eye?"
"No."
"If looks could kill?"
"Stop."
"Getting ready to rip it to shreds with your bare hands?"
Shocked, my eyes snap to Hawkeye's. I can feel my cheeks blossom crimson and I know the expression on my face is giving me away, so there's no real reason for me to lie to him.
"Okay, yeah. I was just about to give in to my destructive, dark side," I pause and inhale deeply. "I hate that hat, Hawk. I hate that it used to be Trapper's. I hate that it means so much to you, especially because it was his. But most of all," I can hear myself becoming whinnier and whinner, but I know I won't be able to stop myself now. "I hate the fact that he was here first. With you first."
"Whoa. Slow down, Beej. Trapper and I were never together."
"What?"
"We didn't, you know, do the things that you and I do together," Hawkeye winks and wiggles his eyebrows comically. He grabs the hat and studies it. "We were really close, but we weren't together. When he left without saying goodbye to me, I was pretty upset. I thought that maybe our friendship meant more to me than it did him." He shrugs and refills his martini. "When you found this hat, his absolute favorite possession, under the bed, I kind of took it as a sign. That maybe he had said goodbye."
"Oh. I just assumed …"
"You know what they say about people who assume …" he trails off and takes a swig of his drink.
"Yes, I do," I pause and close the small distance between us. I glare down at my friend, but my lips are curled into a small grin. "But I don't want to hear it from you right now."
"Okay, okay. I won't say a word. But, Beej, this hat isn't your enemy," Hawkeye tosses it back down onto the bed and puts his hand on my forearm. "And neither is Trapper."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. So if you don't mind, please stop stalking it and giving it the Hunnicutt death stare. It's very sensitive and you're really hurting its feelings.
"I will."
"Maybe you should say you're sorry."
"I'm sorry, Hawk."
"No. Not to me," he stops and points at his bunk. "To the hat."
"Are you kidding?"
"No, I'm not kidding. That hat's about to take out a restraining order on you."
"Hawkeye."
"You've given it a complex."
"You are insane," I lean in and kiss him quickly, then turn and walk to the door. "I love you, you know? I'll see you after my shift."
"I love you too, but don't think that gives you a pass here, fella. I'm serious!"
But I only hear the four words I needed to hear.
End