ejharvey
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“Flip up your turtleneck all the way. I think I got a little carried away last night.”
“Oh!” He clapped a hand over his neck, embarrassed.
“It’s on the other side, actually. Let me help you.”
Hawkeye leaned in and rolled up his turtleneck, undoing the fold he’d made that morning. A sweet kiss was placed on the corner of his mouth.
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"Is it later yet?”
Francis furrowed his brow, puzzled by the apparent non sequitur.
“Later?”
“You said I could beg you later.”
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“Tell Marty I said hi. And don’t remind her I owe her five dollars,” Hawkeye signed.
Cecelia rolled her eyes genially. “You bet. Have fun with hubby, Francis.” She swatted his rear as she passed. Francis jumped and blushed as he watched her athletic hips disappear up the basement steps.
He chanced a look at Hawkeye and saw him biting his lip.
“Oh, go on,” Francis said exasperatedly.
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The one where Mulcahy, happily married, realizes at the ripe age of almost 40 that he may be a little more similar to Hawkeye than he'd thought.
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“I’ve been trying but I couldn’t fall asleep. Is there room for me on that cot?”
Francis sighed and scooted over. “Take off your clothes,” he whispered. Hawkeye’s belt buckle hit the floor with a clatter.
“I’m sorry, I know you had a long day too, it’s just-”
“Hawkeye. Be good for me and be quiet.”
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Falling in love in the worst of circumstances. What you want vs what you need.
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"Besides, we know that Christ felt anger, the same as any other man. People forget that.” He chewed on his toast voraciously. For once, he was glad it wasn’t warm anymore.
“I don’t. That story with the whip is practically all I remember. I like a guy who can get a little…heated.” Hawkeye’s gaze was lingering on his neck where he felt a drop of sweat rolling down.