Magnet and Steel

(Author's Note: I could have edited this a bit to get it to a T rating, but I'm too fond of this story to alter it in any way. So, please heed the rating… even though it's not that graphic, there are some m/m sexual situations here. Also, the title is from a '70s pop song. For those of you too young to know what I'm talking about, the chorus went: "You are a magnet and I am steel.")

"Hawkeye's coming to visit, Peg," B.J. said as he walked into the kitchen. "I told him he could stay with us."

She looked at him and blinked. "He is? You did?"

"Is there a problem? We have a guest room. I assumed it was for guests."

"No, no. Of course there's no problem. I just wish you'd checked with me before the plans were set in stone, that's all."

It was B.J.'s turn to blink. He felt her resistance but couldn't grasp what would be the reason behind it. She asked about Hawkeye's well-being every time he received a letter from Maine ("Is he doing all right? How's his practice coming along?"). She seemed to like the guy, even though she'd never met him. How could she not? He was the one person who'd kept her husband from going slowly but surely insane during his two years in Korea.

"Peggy," he said carefully, "if there's going to be a problem with Hawkeye staying here, I'll call him now and revoke my offer. I'd hate to do it, but I will if you want me to."

"No, no. Like I said, it's fine. I'm looking forward to meeting him." But B.J. didn't hear any sincerity in her voice.

The doorbell rang, and B.J. opened the door to his first sight of Hawkeye Pierce in four months. God, was it really only four months? Because it seemed like forever ago that they'd parted at the skeletal remains of the 4077th…two exhausted, scared, sad, slightly battered friends who desperately wanted to leave the war behind, but had no idea how to let go of one another. The adjustment had been tough for B.J., though he never let his family know it. He put on a happy face, threw himself back into being a father and devoted husband, but for four months, he'd been suffering silently, desperate for the comfort and kinship of his best friend. Phone calls and letters had been the extent of their connection…until now.

He beamed at Hawkeye, who was beaming back, and they practically launched themselves at each other, into a big, sloppy hug that perhaps would have gone on forever if other people weren't around. But B.J. somehow managed to pull away after a moment, grasping Hawkeye's hands for just a second or two before gathering himself and introducing his best friend to his wife. They were both cordial as they shook hands, but Peg was smiling stiffly, and Hawkeye only took his eyes off B.J. for a millisecond. Then B.J. said, "And this is Erin, who you may have heard me talk about," and Hawkeye pulled her up into his arms like a long-lost uncle. She giggled and he hugged her in the air, and B.J. took a mental snapshot of the moment, thinking there could be nothing more perfect than seeing Hawk adoring his daughter, and Erin adoring him right back.

"Come on in, Hawk, make yourself at home," B.J. said, leading the way as Hawkeye carried Erin into the living room, spinning her a little as she gasped and laughed.

"You look terrific, Beej. Post-war life is treating you well. I'm glad to see the moustache is gone. Did you convince him to get rid of that thing, Peg?"

"I hated it," Peg admitted, and Hawkeye laughed heartily.

"You and me both," he said, absently running his fingers over B.J.'s cheek, apparently not even aware he was doing something so intimate. "Totally ruined that fresh-looking face."

B.J.'s heart caught in his throat as he stared at Hawkeye, but he broke free of the moment quickly. "Let me show you to the guest room, Hawk." He ushered the other man down the hallway. "I'm so glad you came. I can't tell you how great it is to—"

"Me too, Beej." They hugged again, keeping it brief, lest the emotion get the better of them. "Been too long."

"Only four months," B.J. reminded him.

"Felt like four years."

"Yeah," B.J. tilted his head, "why is that?"

Hawk shrugged. "We lived in each other's pockets. It was hard to adjust to you not being there anymore."

"Didn't seem right, taking a shower without your bad singing to listen to."

"Bad singing?" Hawkeye smiled broadly and looked heavenward. "Now the truth comes out. He hated my singing."

B.J. was too delighted to be seeing his best friend again, he just couldn't keep up the insults and jibes. "Nah. Loved everything about you, Hawk." Their eyes met and they exchanged smiles, and then they went to join Peg, who was calling them to supper.

"Does Hawkeye have everything he needs?" Peg asked as B.J. came into the bedroom that night.

"Yeah, he says he's fine."

"Good," she said, and there was something in her tone that made B.J. stop undressing and look at her.

"Peg?"

She wore an expression that he couldn't read. "I'd like you to sleep somewhere else tonight, B.J."

"What?!" This was unexpected…completely out of left field. The evening had been pleasant; he and Hawkeye had included her in their conversation as much as they could, considering they were doing a lot of reminiscing, and she had appeared to be enjoying herself. She hadn't given him any indication, until now, that anything was amiss. "You're kicking me out of the bedroom because…?"

"I just would prefer that you spend the night somewhere else."

"You're angry that Hawkeye's here? That doesn't even make sense. You said he could stay here—"

She cut him off. "You think I didn't see the way you looked at him? The expression on your face when you opened the door and saw him standing there? The longing looks during dinner?"

"Whoa, Peg, hold on a minute. Are you kidding? What are you even saying to me?"

She shook her head. "We'll have this conversation another time, after he's gone. Not now." She got into bed and glared at him. "You can go sleep on the couch. You can go sleep in the guest room with him. I honestly don't care. I just don't want you here tonight," she said, clipping her consonants like nobody's business. When she did that, she was really and truly angry.

B.J. decided not to argue any further. This was insanity. She was being way past unreasonable. He got a blanket out of the closet, said, "OK, I'll be on the couch," and left the bedroom.

"What the hell are you doing on the couch, Beej?"

B.J. opened his eyes to see Hawkeye standing over him in the darkened room. He'd been dozing at most, not really able to sleep, thanks to all the craziness running around in his head. He smiled up at his friend, flashing back to countless nights in the Swamp when they lay in their bunks in the dark, only able to see shadows of each other, outlines, as they talked well into the early morning hours.

"Long story, Hawk. How come you're even up?"

"I heard Erin calling for your wife. She only wanted a glass of water. I figured it didn't take parental knowledge to handle that." He held up the glass in his hand. "Am I talented or what?"

"You're a great Uncle Hawkeye. But I'm sorry she woke you."

Hawk waved it off. "No problem at all. Happy to do it, actually. You know, I think she likes me," he said with a wide smile.

"Who wouldn't like you?"

"Well, your wife, I'm guessing?" He sat down next to B.J.'s prone body on the couch, their hips touching. "By any chance, is that why you're here instead of in your bed?"

B.J. shrugged, still not sure exactly why he was kicked out of his own bedroom. "I have no idea what's going on in the woman's mind. But don't worry, it's definitely not your fault."

"Well even so…I'm going to find myself a hotel room in the morning."

"Hawkeye, no—"

He held up a hand. "Yes. It'll be for the best."

They fell into a silence, and B.J. put his hand on Hawkeye's arm, rubbing it lightly for a few seconds. The physical contact felt good. The phone calls and the letters before this visit…they didn't really satisfy, because to get the full Hawkeye effect, you needed to see the face and the eyes and the smile, and you needed the touching. The touching most of all.

"How could anyone ever understand the things that happened to us over there, when we don't even know what the hell happened over there?" B.J. mused, just letting his thoughts spill out of his mouth, not knowing if they made sense or not.

But everything he said and thought somehow always seemed to make sense to Hawkeye. "We didn't need to understand it, Beej. All we needed to do was get through it, and we did that. We saved a hell of a lot of lives. We saved each other."

B.J. looked up into his eyes, suddenly remembering an anguished cry in the night, a broken voice screaming nonsense about a chicken on the bus. "Except for when I failed you, there near the end," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Stop it. You didn't fail me, you were there for me. You got help for me." He gave B.J. a smile. "And I'm fine now."

Another silence settled in. This was how things sometimes went for them, the long pauses in their conversations saying nearly as much as the words did, unspoken thoughts somehow finding their way to the other man through a kind of ESP that would make even Radar envious. B.J. stared at Hawkeye's face, remembering so much from Korea and wondering if he was ever going to forget any of it, because it seemed that every single minute of his life there had been etched into his brain. The memories were vivid…he could smell the blood in the air…he could hear the choppers…he could see Margaret's blonde hair blowing in the breeze as she tended to the wounded, Charles's self-assured gait as he diagnosed patient after patient in triage, Potter's calm but concerned face as the wounded kept piling up around them. Most of all, he remembered Hawkeye…talented fingers, brilliant mind, unlimited compassion, an extra-strength perception of right and wrong. Two years of living with the man hadn't lessened his idolization; if anything, it had grown.

"I'll let you get back to sleep," Hawkeye finally said. He looked at the glass that he still held in his hand. "Your daughter may have already died from dehydration. What kind of a doctor would that make me?"

"Thanks for taking care of her, Hawk. Sleep well."

But Hawkeye didn't stand or move or do anything, and they continued to watch each other in silence a little longer. As if they were afraid to part. As if they were spellbound. B.J. put his hand on Hawk's knee, moved it slightly northward up his thigh, barely conscious of what he was doing, his breathing shallow, his eyes half-closed. Then suddenly he remembered his wife's accusations, and his face grew warm as he hastily withdrew his touch. Hawkeye didn't seem the least bit fazed by any of it.

"Good night," he whispered, leaning over B.J., whose heart fluttered as he imagined, for a split second, that he was going to get a kiss. But it was actually only a hug, and a semi-awkward one at that, since B.J. was flat on his back.

"Good night."

Hawkeye took the glass of water and headed off to Erin's room, and only then did B.J. realize that his heart was racing and sweat was trickling down his back.

As they stood at the airport, about to say their goodbyes, B.J. shook his head in disbelief. "Where did the week go, Hawk? It seems like you just got here."

"Don't worry, we'll do this again. And soon. You come on out to Maine next time, huh? Meet my dad. We can go fishing."

"Sounds great." But he was feeling a mild panic, because here he was, expected to say goodbye to his best friend again (second time in four months), and just like before, he wasn't sure he could do it.

"Thanks, Beej, for everything. Are you and Peg going to be all right?"

Once Hawkeye had moved to a hotel room, Peg's ire had cooled considerably. She would probably be back to her old self after Hawk was gone. "I think she's already embarrassed, as she should be, by the way she acted. I'm sorry. She went a little crazy."

"No big deal. I invaded her territory; she felt defensive."

"Someday, I promise, she's going to love you as much as I do."

They embraced and it seemed too much like the last time, saying goodbye at the 4077th, clinging like they were terrified of going out into the world without each other. B.J. felt tears filling his eyes. "Call me when you get home."

"Bye, Beej."

A few tears fell as B.J. watched Hawk walk away to board his plane. He turned and began to head out of the airport when suddenly a wave of emotion nearly sent him to his knees. He swerved off into the nearest men's room and hurriedly locked himself in a stall, taking deep breaths and trying to regain his composure. His hands were shaky, his stomach was doing nauseating little somersaults, and his legs felt like they were about to give out.

He rested his forehead against the door of the stall. A vision of Hawkeye emerged behind his closed eyes, the genuine smile, the intelligent blue eyes, the unruly black-gray hair that he would sweep back with a flick of his hand. From their time in Korea, B.J. recalled boisterous laughter…a comforting hand on his shoulder…a knee touching his as they sat on his bunk and drank gin. And from their time together over the past few days…an arm curling around his waist as they walked, for just a couple seconds…his sexy golf swing as they leisurely played their way through 18 holes…the peaceful expression on his face as they looked out over San Francisco Bay.

B.J. stood there, arms spread out so his hands were on either side of the stall, anchoring him in place. He heard men come and go. Ten minutes must have passed, and still he didn't move. He kept his eyes pressed shut and concentrated on each breath…in and out, in and out.

Eventually he felt himself coming around, feeling steady, almost back to normal, and he opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, relief washing over him. He left the men's room, left the airport with quick, determined steps, and drove home to his wife and daughter.

B.J. picked up the ringing phone. "Merry Christmas, Beej!" came the jubilant voice on the other end.

"Hey, Merry Christmas to you too! How are you, Hawk?"

"Buried under about two feet of snow."

B.J. laughed. "So that would be the white Christmas you ordered?" Erin was grabbing at the phone and B.J. happily let her share the receiver with him. "Erin wants to say something to you."

"Merry Chris, Uncle Hawk!"

B.J. laughed. "Well, close enough, huh?"

Hawkeye was laughing as well. "Give her a big hug from me, will ya? And tell your wife I said happy holidays. And hell, B.J., give yourself a big, wet kiss for me while you're at it."

"What am I, some kind of contortionist?"

"Won't keep you from your family any longer. I just wanted to hear your voice on Christmas. Feels weird, not spending it with you dressed as Santa Claus."

B.J. smiled at the memory. Distributing presents to the staff, drinking terrible eggnog, singing a hymn for Father Mulcahy. Who would have thought he'd look back on it so fondly?

"Hawkeye, I—"

I miss you.

I don't understand why I can't get back to my old life.

I feel confused and out-of-sorts almost every minute of every day.

"—hope you and your dad have a great holiday," he finally said.

"Same to you and yours, Beej."

"We never get any snow here."

Peg gave him a puzzled look. "That's one of the things you've always loved about the Bay Area, B.J. The climate."

"But it's February, Peg. I wouldn't mind seeing some snow in the middle of winter."

She said nothing, perhaps sensing that there was an underlying point to this conversation, and she was correct. Since he got no prodding from her, he continued on his own, "I'm going to go visit Hawkeye. Maine is probably very white right now."

Her mouth became a very thin line. "It wasn't all that long ago he was here." Meaning: I know this has nothing to do with snow; you just need to see him again. When B.J. didn't respond, she sighed and shrugged. "You're an adult, B.J. You can do whatever you want." Clearly she wasn't happy and clearly she was suspicious, as she'd been during Hawkeye's visit, but she didn't seem to have the energy to fight him on the issue.

He felt her slipping away and had no idea what to say to her. His life made no sense to him anymore. He wasn't trying to hurt her or make her angry. Lord knows he wanted nothing more than to get back to being B.J. Hunnicutt, perfect husband and gentleman doctor, but his mind was forever spinning and usually those swirling thoughts were of Hawkeye and he kept feeling this inexplicable pull from across the country.

He gave a defeated shrug and said, sadness clouding his features, "I'm sorry."

She said nothing and walked away from him.

There was plenty of snow in Maine. At least a foot on the ground, and more falling lightly as B.J.'s plane landed. He felt giddy, though he doubted it was entirely due to the weather. He couldn't remember being this snow-obsessed during the winters he spent in Korea.

His heart did a cartwheel when he saw Hawkeye, grinning broadly, at the gate. He's beautiful, he thought, before his mind had a chance to censor itself. He fell into Hawkeye's embrace and shut his eyes and didn't care who was watching or what they might be thinking. All at once he felt centered again, like everything was right with the world.

The snow started to intensify as Hawkeye drove him to Crabapple Cove. B.J. watched his calm confidence as he navigated the icy roads.

"I want to take a walk while the snow's still falling. Am I insane?"

Hawk glanced at him. "Frankly, yes." He smiled. "But I'm so happy to see you that I'll entertain your twisted fantasies without complaint. For the first day or so. After that, I can't make any promises."

B.J. laughed. "Fair enough."

And so they took a walk right after they got B.J. settled in at Hawkeye's. The small-town setting was idyllic, with quiet residential areas and quaint shops and friendly drivers honking hello at the town's doctor. The snow fell delicately as they walked and talked, and B.J. felt this absurd urge to slip his hand into Hawk's. He didn't actually do it, but the temptation tugged at him relentlessly.

Once back inside the house, B.J. realized just how cold he'd become. "OK, whose bright idea was that?" he joked, shivering, running his hands over his arms.

Hawkeye indicated the fireplace. "Let me get a fire started. That'll warm you up."

B.J. assisted as though they were operating on the same patient. "Matches" instead of "scalpel"…"more wood" instead of "more 3-0 silk." They got a fire blazing in no time. The glow filled the room and the warmth coiled around B.J.'s body. Hawkeye handed him a bottle of beer and they sat on the couch to enjoy the full effects of the fire.

Although the couch was roomy, they sat right up against each other, their thighs touching.

They didn't speak for a long time, only sat there drinking beer and looking into the fire. Not really thinking, not really wanting to think, B.J. reached over and gently took hold of Hawkeye's hand. For a moment, Hawk did nothing, and B.J. felt a flicker of embarrassment. But then he watched as Hawkeye tenderly ran a thumb over his palm, back and forth, back and forth, and eventually laced their fingers together. B.J.'s breath quickened.

Softly: "Beej, what are we doing?"

"I don't know what you're doing, Hawk. I'm falling in love with my best friend." B.J. looked up into shining eyes. "Fell in love. Past tense, it already happened. I couldn't undo it even if I wanted to."

About a dozen different emotions crossed Hawkeye's face in a matter of seconds. "Is that a good idea?" he asked.

"I don't care." B.J. shook his head. They leaned into each other slowly until Hawk's mouth settled on his, generous and sweet. Desire and relief and elation coursed through B.J.'s body, the culmination of everything he'd been feeling for two years. He shut his eyes tight, and when his mind wanted to show him pictures of his wife, he refused delivery. He focused on the moment, the taste of Hawkeye's mouth, the warmth of his embrace, the silky feeling of his hair looped around B.J.'s fingers.

He felt himself being lowered backward onto the couch, Hawkeye leaning over him, still kissing him and making small, sweet, passionate noises in the back of his throat. B.J. sank into the soft couch, pulling Hawkeye on top of him, wanting full contact and getting it. Only a few minutes ago, he'd been freezing; now, heat permeated his body. He pressed his groin into Hawkeye's. The two of them could fuse together, as far as he was concerned, and still they wouldn't be close enough. He wanted every inch of the man. He wanted to crawl inside him.

Blindly, he began to unbutton Hawk's shirt. Three-quarters of the way down he got distracted by a tongue in his ear, and he laughed, but only for a second because then the adventurous mouth was back on his, stealing laughter and breath and sanity.

Eventually he needed to fill his lungs, and he gave a gentle nudge and tipped his head back. He looked at Hawkeye poised over him—hair disheveled, shirt open, lean chest partially exposed —and he liked what he saw. He wanted to see more. To touch more. He licked his lips subconsciously and got back to unbuttoning Hawk's shirt. Between the two of them, they made quick work of removing it, and then Hawkeye reached down to start undressing his partner. A California boy since birth, B.J. was wearing layers of clothing, but Hawkeye patiently worked his way through them...the sweater, the T-shirt underneath. Ironically, as each item came off, B.J. felt himself getting warmer.

Finally free of his shirts, feeling Hawkeye's fingernails raking through his chest hair, he groaned, "I need—"

I need you.

I need you naked.

I need you on top of me...all over me...inside me.

"What do you need?" A smile in his voice, teasing but affectionate.

"...more."

"And more you will get," Hawkeye promised him, reaching down and unzipping his pants.

Somehow, and it seemed to take much too long, they both ended up naked and breathing hard. The room was very warm now, but neither was interested in changing venues. They stayed on the couch, kissing and exploring and learning.

When it seemed that B.J. would be able to stand it no longer, Hawkeye trailed tiny, wet kisses down his chest and to his navel (briefly stopping there for a lick, enjoying the innie) and down even lower, finally putting his perfect, skillful mouth around B.J.'s throbbing erection. B.J.'s eyes rolled back just before he shut them, and his hands plunged into thick black hair as Hawkeye began to work his magic.

Some time later—minutes or hours, who knew?—he sighed and said, "I think I've died and gone to heaven."

Hawk lifted his head from B.J.'s chest and looked at him. "Really? Because I'm more inclined to believe we're going to hell."

"No." B.J. shook his head. "This isn't wrong."

"I would have expected you to think so." Not passing judgment, just making a statement.

B.J. thought about that. "Maybe an earlier version of me. Yeah, maybe so. But not this version of me…the one that loves you. The one that went to Korea and found out how much he could change. Found out how much he didn't know before." He ran a hand through Hawkeye's sweat-laced hair. "If I said that Korea was the best thing that ever happened to me, would you think I'm crazy?"

"No," Hawk said softly. "I'd understand that."

They lay there in silence for a little while. Then B.J. gently rolled Hawkeye onto his back. "Your turn," he said, kissing his neck and jaw and mouth while he reached down between Hawk's legs. He was a little intimidated; he knew he wouldn't be as skilled as Hawkeye was. But what he lacked in experience he would make up for in enthusiasm.

Hawkeye smiled at him warmly, and B.J. leaned down to take him in his mouth. Wrong? he thought, tasting and licking and loving the sound of Hawkeye's moans. No way. Life doesn't get any more right than this.

The fire was close to dying out and it was very late. But neither seemed anxious to move to the bedroom. They stayed entangled on the couch, listening to each other's breathing.

"So. Did you like San Francisco?" B.J. asked cautiously…feeling butterflies swarming in his stomach, as though he were popping the question. Well, in a way, maybe he was.

"Loved it, Beej."

"Would you ever think about, I dunno…living there?"

Soft, sexy laughter. "Something on your mind, there, Hunnicutt?"

B.J. propped himself on an elbow to look him in the eye. "Am I moving too fast for you? Scaring you off? Should I just shut the hell up?"

"B.J., I would love to move out to California and be with you."

Shock wouldn't even begin to describe B.J.'s reaction. "Are you serious? Just like that? You've lived in Crabapple Cove all your life, Hawk. And you're telling me you're willing to leave it? You don't even need time to think about it?"

"I love you, Beej. And I want to be with you. And your daughter is in California, so obviously that's where you need to be." He shrugged, kissed B.J. on the mouth quickly but sweetly. "I've discovered that I may have outgrown small-town life. I love San Francisco and I love the beauty of the Pacific Ocean and most of all, I love you." A big grin, a sparkle in his eye. "And if you get itchy for snow, we can always come back here to visit Dad."

"Damn, that was way too easy," B.J. marveled. Practically lightheaded with surprise and elation, he pulled Hawkeye close and let his daydreams fall out of his mouth. "We should open a practice together. That'd be so great, Hawk. Hunnicutt and Pierce: Two Stooges, No Waiting."

"Hey, you stole that joke from me! I said it in Korea."

"Right, Hawk, I memorized every single thing you said in Korea just so I could steal it from you later."

"I wouldn't be surprised. And anyway, I'm pretty sure you meant Pierce and Hunnicutt. My name goes first, I have more experience."

"I think alphabetical is fair. Hunnicutt and Pierce it is, then."

"Or alphabetical by first name, which would put Benjamin before B.J. What the hell does B.J. stand for, anyway?"

B.J. laughed. "Oh no, we're not starting that up again." He pulled Hawkeye on top of him, running his hands up his back. "I think there's only one sure way to get you to shut up," he said, and reached up for the kiss.