AN: I always thought something happened between Hawkeye and Margaret during during/after the red party. Their body language certainly wasn't that of two people who'd agreed to be just friends. This is my take on things, enjoy. Contains dialogue from the episode Peace on Us. Part two will contain Adult content, which is why this story is rated M. This fic assumes it's the first divergence from canon in this universe :)

This was not supposed to be happening. This was not the tent he was supposed to be in, and full was certainly not what his arms were meant to be. No overnighters, no commitment. Or at least that's what he used to tell himself. Hawkeye looked down at the completely naked, still sleeping blonde in his arms, her hair washed clean its red stain from last night's party. He had promised himself after their night together behind enemy lines that this would never, ever happen again. Damn BJ and his accurate observations. He was right, She had stirred something in him. A very specific something which he had been trying to ignore ever since. Of all the women in all the places in the world, it had to be Margaret, and it had to be in the middle of a war zone. Miss Scarlett in the conservatory with a lead pipe. He shakes his head, trying in vain to clear the thoughts swirling around his mind. He didn't fully understand how this had happened. Many women had come and gone during their time in Korea. Some more beautiful, some more willing, and all less abrasive and less skilled at getting up his nose, yet none had affected him as deeply as she had.

Sure, there'd been friction between them since the beginning; early on the true nature completely obscured by their warring views and opinions, and later dismissed as more of the same. Neither one of them had thought much more of it until their fateful night lost in enemy territory. It had been a light bulb moment. So it wasn't just their irritation with each other that fuelled their disagreements. Suddenly so much about them made sense. But Margaret in all her insecure glory had started simpering all over him like she would have one of her old Generals. That along with the traitorous, not entirely unpleasant thoughts he'd started having about what it would be like to be in a serious relationship with her was enough to terrify him into a quick retreat. It was stifling. He'd gone and told her that they were too different for anything to come of things and shoved it as far as he could from his mind. The first time they had sex could be written off purely as exceptional circumstances if he lied to himself, if he forgot how beautifully, how wonderfully, how combustively they had come together. A second time, though. A second time was the sort of thing that suggested an underlying reason. Damn you, BJ. Hawkeye was choosing to blame it on him even though he was only the messenger. Maybe if he hadn't opened his size 12 mouth then I would have been blissfully unaware of said feelings. It wasn't even just a plain old something that had stirred, it was turning out to be a very deep something indeed and, though he'd been pretending very hard that it didn't exist, it had been bubbling away in there all this time, only to emerge now with uncomfortable clarity.

His resolve hadn't started slipping until after he'd arrived back from the peace talks. Her pain was what had given him the last shove over the edge and into that jeep with the intent and impetus to stick it to the men who ran this war. But it wasn't until he'd arrived back and caught sight of her with her red hair, all radiant looking. She looked like she'd shed the weight of the world since he'd left. He hadn't spotted her right away. She'd hung back, resting against the piano. But soon she was escorting a very inebriated Charles towards him, huge smile on her face. After Charles had shuffled away, Hawkeye threw his arms open to her. "Margaret!"

"Welcome home, you crazy galoot!" she said, throwing her arms around him.

It was then that he realised that she felt a lot like home. He let his hands rest on her waist. She didn't brush them off or move away.

"I did it, I told them all! You should have seen me."

She looked like she was actually proud of him. Her hand suddenly flew up and grabbed the back of his head and pulled him slightly forward; for a brief moment he thought she might actually kiss him in the middle of the mess tent. He shuffles her sideways slightly. "Listen, about your divorce, if there's anything I can do…"

She tosses her head, "Best thing that's ever happened to me, the weight of the world the world is off my shoulders. I feel like a new woman. It's all coming back. The spirit, the confidence…"

He believed her, too. All she'd done since getting married was worry about it and fight with her 'husband' over the phone.

"Oh that's great, that's fantastic! It's just what I wanted to hear. I'm proud of you."

"Oh my God, I could use a drink." She laughs, moving away to refill her empty glass as Colonel Potter comes over to talk to him, bringing him a drink of his own. She comes back quickly, however, eager to help BJ and the others dunk his head into a vat of red.

Margaret's taking great pleasure in showing him his reflection in a small mirror when a man from I-CORPS turns up. The man demands to see Colonel Potter before coming to find Hawkeye. Margaret jumps in front of him to his defence with all he fierceness. "He's innocent, you're not taking him no place."

"Margaret," Hawkeye admonishes gently. But she's having none of it.

"You stay out of this and shut up." She hits back at him before Potter steps in. Hawkeye tries to talk to Major Whatshisface from I-CORPS but Potter shushes him, telling him he's probably in too much trouble already. It all gets straightened out fairly quickly. Margaret stands close with her hand on his shoulder almost the entire time.

Their sobriety went downhill quickly from there.

Both the jukebox and the piano had been hauled across from the Officer's Club, and soon the floor was full of shuffling drunks. Hawkeye'd downed a three, maybe four drinks by this point and was still sitting on his stool at the bar. He scanned the room for Margaret and found her at the other end of the bar, talking to a couple of the nurses.

"Hey Margaret. Margaret!"

She turned to him "Hm?"

"Dance with me," The absurdity of the day, and the strange, buoyant relief he feels at having gotten away with his stupid stunt make him decide to push his luck.

She quirks her eyebrow at him and smiles as she walks over to his outstretched arms, putting her drink on the bar. The nurses she's just left look surprised. The pair start out by trying to dance properly, but it soon becomes apparent that they're just a little too drunk for that. This suits Hawkeye fine. This was, at best, just a poorly disguised excuse to get her in his arms again anyway. Margaret moves her arms so that they're up around his neck and he replies in kind by pulling her flush against himself. It's borderline inappropriate but she doesn't seem to mind. She leans her head on his chest as they sway to the music. Some of the tent's other occupants' occupants are starting to notice. The nurses nudge each other and point and giggle, and if Igor's jaw opens any wider it risks getting stuck on something. BJ and Colonel Potter share a knowing smile across the tent. Hawkeye looks down at the top of her red head. He's having those feelings again. He's afraid that if these feelings get much bigger he's going to have to start using the "L" word, and he's about drunk enough to tell her. He also wouldn't mind going somewhere more private and reacquainting himself with that lovely body of hers. He really wouldn't mind.

Margaret smiles up at him lazily, having noticed his gaze. "What are you thinking?"

"Just that you're adorable when you're drunk, and that I'm trying to figure out how to tell you that I'm about to kiss you so that you can get ready to slap me."

"Would I do that?"

"I dunno, let's find out." He starts leaning towards her

"Here?"

"Why not, we're both here."

"But there are other here people too." She may be drunk, but she's not drunk enough to kiss Hawkeye surrounded by the rest of the camp.

"It would be better without them, wouldn't it"

Margaret nods earnestly.

"Alright then."

In a moment of silliness, he'd picked her up, quickly shifted her into the bridal hold and then run out of the tent with a giggling armful of Margaret, her arms around his neck.

The others watched them go.

"She giggles? They are. Disgusting." a very drunk Charles said to nobody in particular before wandering off into the night.

"Well, it's about time". BJ says with such certainty that Charles, Father Mulcahy and Potter turn to stare at him. "Well it is. They've obviously been harbouring feelings for a while."

Potter nods, "It's true, they've been a little different since they came back from enemy territory; since they 'sustained each other'."

Father Mulcahy looks slightly aghast.

Potter turns to the priest, "It's okay, Father, better Hawkeye than that no-good husband of hers."

Father Mulcahy frowns slightly, "I see. Well, I'd better be going. Gotta get some prayers in before I sleep!"

"Goodnight, Father."

"Night, Father"

"Goodnight all."

BJ's quiet for a moment before realising something, "Oh no."

"What is it, son?"

"He didn't take her back to her tent, he took her to the showers."

"That Pierce"

"Let's hope nobody else wants a shower anytime soon."

"Damn. I'd been kinda hoping for one of those myself."

"Me too. Hey, y'know where Charles is probably headed?"

"The showers."

TBC