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Re: The Homecoming of Two Soldiers and One Little Baby

from TrapperJohnMcIntyre on 06/25/2026 02:30 AM

Trapper stood there for a moment with his hands half-folded, the shirt slipping back into the footlocker like he'd forgotten it even existed. He looked at Hawkeye instead—really looked at him—at the tired eyes, the stubborn set of his shoulders that was trying too hard to stay steady, and then at the small bundle asleep in the bed.

 

T.K. gave a soft little sound in his sleep, and something in Trapper's expression shifted right along with it.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, like he'd been holding it in for days.

"God..." Trapper muttered first, almost to himself. Then he shook his head once, like he was trying to clear it. "You really can't let anything sit, can you?"

There was no bite in it, though. Not really.

He finally stepped closer, the tension in his shoulders easing as he reached out and gently rested a hand on Hawkeye's arm—steadying, not pushing away.

"Hey," Trapper said softer, looking at him now instead of the floor. "I wasn't mad at you about Maine."

A pause.

"I was mad because everything's ending and I don't know what 'after' is supposed to look like. And I took it out on you because you're the one person I know isn't going anywhere."

His thumb brushed once over Hawkeye's sleeve before his hand dropped.

Then, finally, Trapper gave a small, reluctant smile—more tired than amused, but real.

"And you went and got yourself all worked up thinking I was choosing between you and my family. Like I'd ever do that."

He glanced toward the atlas sitting in the footlocker, then back at Hawkeye.

"Boston's fine. Maine's fine. As long as you and that kid are in the same place as me, I don't really care if it's a shoebox or a brownstone."

His eyes flicked to T.K. again, and his voice softened even more.

"And your idea..." he added, a little quieter now, "it's not bad. Staying with my dad and Kellye for a bit? That's... actually smart. I just didn't want to admit it because I was busy being stubborn."

Trapper exhaled, then gave Hawkeye's arm a light squeeze.

"But you don't get to just decide everything in your head and then spring it on me like you did something heroic."

A pause—and then the faintest grin.

"You're a doctor, not a general."

His gaze held Hawkeye's for a moment longer, and the last bit of tension finally broke.

"Come here," Trapper said, not quite a command, more like an invitation.

And when Hawkeye stepped in, Trapper pulled him in close—careful of both of them, careful of everything that mattered now.

"Hey," he murmured into Hawkeye's hair, voice lower and steadier. "We're okay. We're just... figuring out what okay looks like outside of this place."

A beat.

"And for the record?" he added softly. "I like your idea about Crabapple Cove. I just didn't want to say yes too fast and let it go to your head."

Re: Operation Mother’s Day Surprise at the 4077TH (2026)

from TrapperJohnMcIntyre on 06/25/2026 02:23 AM

Trapper didn't answer right away.

 

He stayed where he was on the edge of the bed, one hand resting lightly on the tray like he was anchoring it there, the other already studying Hawkeye instead of the food. That easy grin Hawkeye had on was familiar—but Trapper knew him well enough to see what it was covering.

"First of all," Trapper said finally, voice soft but steady, "don't send MPs after me. I can barely get you to eat what they pass off as food in this place—I'm not adding a manhunt to my resume."

That earned a small huff of amusement from Hawkeye, but Trapper didn't let the moment drift too far.

His eyes flicked to the calendar, then back to Hawkeye's face.

"And second... Mother's Day picnic?"

Trapper exhaled through his nose, like he was choosing his words carefully instead of reacting too fast. He reached over and adjusted the pillow behind Hawkeye's back without even asking, purely instinctive.

"You're supposed to be on bedrest, remember? That's not a suggestion, Hawk. That's the Army's one contribution to your life right now that I actually agree with."

He reached out then, gently tapping the edge of Hawkeye's hand—grounding, not scolding.

"I like the idea," he added more quietly. "I really do. But I like you not doubling over in pain in the middle of nowhere a whole lot more."

Trapper leaned back slightly, studying him again with that familiar blend of affection and concern.

"And for the record... I don't need a picnic to have a Mother's Day with you," he said, voice softening. "You're right here. That's already more than I ever expected to get."

A beat passed.

Then, a little firmer, but still warm:

"So here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna eat. You're gonna rest. And if you want to celebrate, We'll have a small picnic, but close to The SWAMP here in case something happens. You know I can't say no to you."

His gaze sharpened just a touch, though the worry never left it.

 

Re: A Basket Full of Romance with an Easter Moon Over the 4077th (2026)

from TrapperJohnMcIntyre on 06/25/2026 02:14 AM

Trapper John stepped off the transport with the stiffness of a long flight still in his shoulders and a briefcase tucked under his arm that he had barely bothered to close properly. Tokyo had been all lectures, polite applause, and endless cups of strong coffee—none of it real enough to make him forget where he actually belonged.

 

The moment he saw the familiar chaos of the 4077th in the distance, something in him loosened.

But something else tightened.

Because even from here, he could tell the rhythm of the camp was off.

He paused near the motor pool, catching sight of Radar crossing the yard with that same hurried, slightly worried energy he only got when something was wrong but nobody had officially said so yet. Trapper lifted a hand in greeting.

Radar hesitated a fraction too long before waving back.

That was all Trapper needed to notice.

He didn't ask questions right away. Not out here. Instead, he adjusted his duffel over his shoulder and started walking, letting instinct guide him toward the one place that would make sense of everything: the Swamp.

On the way, he picked up fragments—half-spoken comments from passing corpsmen, a nurse mentioning "Hawkeye not keeping anything down," another muttering about how he'd been "pushing through like it's nothing." Each piece hit a little harder than the last, but Trapper didn't slow down.

By the time he reached the tent, his jaw was set.

He didn't barge in.

He stopped just outside the entrance flap.

There was a pause—one of those quiet, loaded moments where a person realizes the air itself feels different than it should.

Then he stepped inside.

His eyes took in everything at once: the half-eaten food, the untouched coffee cooling on the table, the small details of routine disrupted in a way Trapper knew too well from war, from exhaustion, from things people tried to hide until they couldn't anymore.

And then he saw enough to understand what kind of day it had been.

Trapper didn't speak immediately.

He set his duffel down slowly, carefully, like sudden noise might make everything worse. His face shifted—not into panic, not into frustration, but into something steadier. Something anchored.

"Okay," he said quietly to the empty air of the tent, voice low and controlled, as if he was speaking more to himself than anything else. "Alright... I'm home."

He exhaled once, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, then straightened.

Whatever was going on here, whatever had been quietly unraveling while he was gone, he wasn't going to fix it from the doorway.

He stepped further inside, settling his things down like he meant to stay put for a while.

And in that calm, deliberate way of his, Trapper John McIntyre waited—ready to deal with whatever had been happening in his absence, no matter how long it took to face it head-on.

Re: A Trip to Seoul Brings New Hope in Forever

from TrapperJohnMcIntyre on 06/25/2026 01:58 AM

Trapper didn't move right away.

 

He just looked at Hawkeye for a long moment—like he was trying to decide whether to tease him, kiss him again, or do both at once.

Then that familiar crooked smile broke through.

"Oh, so that's your plan, huh?" Trapper said softly, his voice warm with amusement. "Wine me, dine me, give me something I can't stop staring at... and then start issuing orders?"

He stepped a little closer, close enough that Hawkeye could feel the heat of him, but didn't immediately follow the suggestion. Instead, Trapper's fingers slid lightly up Hawkeye's arm, slow and grounding.

"You really know how to build a case, Pierce," he added, quieter now. "I'll give you that."

His gaze flicked toward the cot, then back to Hawkeye's face.

"But you don't get to get nervous on me now," Trapper murmured, thumb brushing lightly over Hawkeye's knuckles. "Not after that gift. Not after looking at me like that."

A pause—just enough to let Hawkeye's heart race again.

Then Trapper leaned in, resting his forehead briefly against Hawkeye's.

"And for the record," he said, voice dropping into something softer, "I don't need orders to get close to you."

He kissed him again—slower this time, less fire and more certainty. Like he was answering the question Hawkeye hadn't fully said out loud.

When he finally pulled back, just barely, Trapper's eyes stayed locked on his.

"Come here," he said gently. "No speeches. No running off to check your reflection in a mirror like you always do when you get emotional."

A faint grin tugged at his mouth again.

"And Hawkeye?" he added, softer still, "I love the gift. But I think I might like you more than whatever was in that box."

He says this as he starts slowly taking off his shirt and then laying down on the cot.

Re: Two Becomes One in a Korean War Zone

from TrapperJohnMcIntyre on 06/25/2026 01:50 AM

Trapper let out a small breath he hadn't realized he was holding, rolling his shoulders slightly as his father fixed the tie around his neck. He looked down for a second, then back up with a crooked, nervous half-smile.

 

"Yeah," he said quietly, voice softer than usual. "Just one thing."

He paused, swallowing once, suddenly very aware of how real everything felt in that moment.

"Is it normal... to feel like you're about to walk into the best part of your life and still be terrified you're gonna mess it up?"

His eyes flicked toward the tent opening for a second, then back to his father.

"Because I don't want to mess this up," he added, more honest now. "Not him. Not us."

Re: Army Green Brings St. Paddy's Day Shenanigans (2026)

from TrapperJohnMcIntyre on 06/23/2026 07:30 AM

Trapper stared at his reflection for a long moment, his jaw tight as Hawkeye's laughter finally died down behind him. Then he slowly turned his head and looked at Hawkeye over his shoulder. "You know," Trapper said in a calm voice that was far too calm, "for a surgeon, you have a remarkable lack of self-preservation." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Because somewhere between 'eight-ball' and 'my little penis,' I started considering whether I could make a murder look like an accident." Despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched. Just a little. "I come back from a shower looking like somebody used my head as a billiards table, and your first instinct is to compare me to male anatomy." He shook his head. "Some husband you are." The irritation in his voice softened when Hawkeye's arms tightened around him. Trapper let out a long sigh. "Tokyo, huh?" His shoulders relaxed slightly. "A nice hotel. Room service. No patients. No artillery." He paused. "And most importantly, nobody calling me 'Eight-Ball' every five minutes."

Finally, he turned fully in Hawkeye's arms. His expression was still wounded, but there was affection there too. "You really think locking me in a hotel room for two weeks is going to make me forget that the entire 4077th saw my bald head?" He raised an eyebrow. "Because if so, you've suffered some kind of brain injury." A reluctant chuckle escaped him. Then he reached up and rested a hand against Hawkeye's cheek. "But..." His voice grew quieter. "It does help knowing you still look at me the same way." He glanced toward the mirror again and grimaced. "Even if I currently resemble a deranged cue ball." Looking back at Hawkeye, he finally smiled. "A very handsome cue ball." Then his smile turned mischievous. "And for the record, Pierce..." He poked Hawkeye firmly in the chest. "If anybody paints a penis on my head before this hair grows back, I'm shaving your mustache in your sleep." A beat passed. "And your eyebrows." Another beat. "Both of them." This time Trapper's smile widened into a genuine grin. "Now come here and help me figure out which one of our so-called friends is responsible for this before I start interrogating the entire camp."

Re: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, P.S. I Love You My Valentine (2026)

from TrapperJohnMcIntyre on 06/23/2026 07:10 AM

Trapper stared after Hawkeye for a moment, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There were plenty of things he could have said. He could have teased him. Could have accused him of plotting something ridiculous. Could have demanded to know what that grin meant. Instead, he simply looked down at the breakfast spread across his lap. Real biscuits and gravy. Fresh orange juice. Food that tasted like home. Food that tasted like effort. Food that tasted like love. Slowly, Trapper shook his head. "You know," he said softly, "most husbands buy flowers." Hawkeye paused halfway to the flap of the tent and glanced back over his shoulder. "Flowers are overrated." Trapper laughed. "Most husbands buy chocolates." "Those melt." "Jewelry?" "You'd lose it." "I would not." "You absolutely would." Trapper rolled his eyes. "Fair point." Hawkeye folded his arms and leaned casually against a tent pole, watching him. "So what you're saying is my breakfast strategy is genius." "I'm saying you're impossible." "That's practically the same thing." Trapper couldn't help but laugh again. The sound seemed to relax Hawkeye instantly. For a few moments neither of them spoke. The morning sun filtered softly through the canvas. Outside, the camp was slowly beginning to wake. Somewhere in the distance a jeep started. Someone yelled for coffee. A few nurses laughed as they crossed the compound. Normal sounds. As normal as life could be in Korea. Trapper's expression softened as he looked at Hawkeye. "You know what the best part is?" Hawkeye tilted his head. "My devastating good looks?" "No." "My charm?" "No." "My incredible cooking skills?" "Definitely not." Hawkeye clutched his chest dramatically. "That wound may never heal." Trapper chuckled before his voice grew quieter. "The best part is that you wanted to do it." Hawkeye's joking expression faded. Trapper looked down at the breakfast tray again. "You got up before sunrise." He lifted the glass of orange juice. "You somehow found oranges." He pointed at the biscuits. "You found ingredients for this." Then he looked back at him. "Not because you had to." His voice became softer. "Not because it was Valentine's Day." A pause. "But because you wanted me to wake up smiling."

The tent fell silent. For once, Hawkeye didn't have a joke ready. Trapper could see the emotion in his eyes. The way he suddenly found the floor fascinating. The way his grin became smaller and more genuine. Finally, Hawkeye shrugged. "Well..." Another shrug. "You have a nice smile." Trapper laughed. "That's your response?" "It's a very good smile." "Hawkeye." "Top five smiles I've ever seen." "Hawkeye." "Maybe top three." Trapper shook his head. "Come here." Hawkeye blinked. "What?" "Come here." Slowly, suspiciously, Hawkeye approached the cot. The second he was close enough, Trapper reached out, grabbed the front of his robe, and pulled him down. Before Hawkeye could protest, Trapper pressed a kiss against his cheek. A simple one. Gentle. Lingering. When he pulled back, Hawkeye looked completely caught off guard. Which was a rare sight. "There," Trapper said. "What was that for?" "For the breakfast." Hawkeye smiled. "A kiss for breakfast?" "That's right." Hawkeye's grin slowly returned. "Amazing." "What?" "The return on investment." Trapper groaned. "There he is." "Six more days of Valentine's Week, Trap." Hawkeye waggled his eyebrows. "I'm expecting significant romantic dividends." Trapper laughed so hard he nearly spilled his orange juice. And as Hawkeye finally disappeared out the tent flap—still grinning like a man with a hundred secrets—Trapper couldn't help but feel warm all over. Because whatever ridiculous surprise Hawkeye was planning... The truth was he didn't really care what it was. He already had everything he wanted.

Re: A Magical Korean Christmas (2025)

from TrapperJohnMcIntyre on 06/23/2026 06:59 AM

Hawkeye's suggestion hung in the air for a moment.

 

Trapper didn't answer right away.

Instead, he finally opened one eye and squinted at him.

"You know," he muttered, his voice rough from sleep, "most people wake their husbands up with a gentle shake."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"You practically climbed into bed like a commando operation."

He reached for his coffee and wrapped both hands around the warm mug, letting the heat soak into his fingers.

"And for the record..."

He shot Hawkeye a pointed look.

"Your feet are freezing."

Taking a careful sip, he closed his eyes for a second and sighed.

The coffee helped.

The warmth helped.

Most of all, Hawkeye helped.

The last few weeks hadn't been easy. There had been days when getting out of bed had felt like more effort than it should. Days when memories came too easily and motivation came too slowly.

But this morning felt different.

Maybe it was the snow.

Maybe it was the smell of coffee.

Maybe it was the idiot sitting in front of him looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Probably all three.

Trapper opened his eyes again and looked toward the window.

The pale winter light filtering through the glass made it obvious Hawkeye hadn't been exaggerating.

Snow was falling.

Not heavily yet.

Just enough to dust the ground and turn the morning quiet.

A small smile appeared on his face.

"First snowfall of the season."

Hawkeye nodded enthusiastically.

"That's what I was trying to tell you before I got distracted."

"Distracted?"

"You know. By your handsome face."

Trapper rolled his eyes.

"You've been using that line for years."

"And it still works."

To Hawkeye's delight, Trapper actually laughed.

A genuine laugh.

Not a forced one.

Not the polite kind.

The real thing.

Hawkeye felt some of the tension he'd been carrying ease immediately.

Trapper noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He always did.

His expression softened as he reached across the small gap between them and took Hawkeye's hand.

"You've been worried about me."

It wasn't a question.

Hawkeye looked down at their joined hands.

"A little."

"A lot."

"Maybe."

Trapper squeezed his fingers.

"I'm still here, Hawk."

The words were simple, but Hawkeye understood what he meant.

I'm hurting.

I'm struggling.

But I'm still here.

Still fighting.

Still trying.

Hawkeye squeezed back.

"Good. Because I wasn't planning on letting you go anywhere."

A comfortable silence settled between them.

Outside, snowflakes continued drifting past the window.

Finally, Trapper took another sip of coffee.

"All right."

Hawkeye blinked.

"All right what?"

"We'll get breakfast."

A grin spread across Hawkeye's face.

"We will?"

"We will."

"And then?"

"And then we'll go find a Christmas tree before this turns into a blizzard."

Hawkeye pumped a fist in victory.

"Yes!"

Trapper laughed again.

"But," he added, pointing a finger at him, "if we're hiking through snow looking for a tree, you're carrying it home."

"Deal."

"And you're buying breakfast."

"Deal."

"And if I find out you woke me up this early just because you were excited about Christmas—"

"I absolutely woke you up because I was excited about Christmas."

Trapper groaned dramatically and buried his face in his free hand.

"I married a twelve-year-old."

"A very handsome twelve-year-old."

"A forty-something-year-old twelve-year-old."

Hawkeye's grin only widened.

Trapper shook his head, unable to stop smiling.

Then he leaned over and kissed Hawkeye's cheek.

"Thanks for not letting me hide in bed today."

For once, Hawkeye had no joke ready.

His smile softened.

"Anytime, babe."

And as the snow continued falling outside, they sat together in the warmth of their little room, drinking coffee and watching the winter morning wake up around them.

Re: A Magical Korean Christmas

from TrapperJohnMcIntyre on 04/07/2026 06:42 AM

Trapper was in bed, in their warmer tent that the Army had upgraded. He knew it was December and would be Christmas very soon. He heard Hawkeye and doing stuff. He just didn't know he was decorating. He had planned on them decorating the tent latrer tonight after he got some sleep. He had lost a patient in surgery today, a baby that it's families hut had been hit by several bombs, so right now he just needed some sleep. Plus he wa going to lay there and decide what he was going to Hawkeye for Christmas.

 

He knew what he wanted to get him, but he was thinking instead of Christmas that the best time to give him that would be at the stroke of midnight on New Years night. He was still thinkng of that when heard him trying to sneak in, and felt cuddle up next to him in bed.

Re: Army Green Brings St. Paddy's Day Shenanigans

from TrapperJohnMcIntyre on 04/06/2026 07:14 AM

Trapper stood there for a long moment, the note still in his hand, his jaw tight as he stared at the single word written across it.

 

"Bazinga."

Behind him, Hawkeye was still trying—and failing—to quiet his laughter, though it had softened into occasional bursts now instead of full-on hysteria.

Trapper exhaled slowly through his nose, folding the note with deliberate care.

"Okay," he said, voice calm—too calm. "Alright. That's fine."

That alone made Hawkeye straighten a little.

"Oh... that's not good," Hawkeye muttered.

Trapper turned back toward him, one eyebrow raised, his expression dangerously composed.

"No, no, it's fine," he repeated. "Whoever did this clearly has a death wish, but that's their problem, not mine."

Hawkeye pressed his lips together, trying to behave. "You uh... you want a hat?"

Trapper gave him a look.

"Do I look like I want a hat?" he asked flatly.

A beat.

"...Yes," Hawkeye said immediately. "Very much so."

Trapper pointed at him.

"You're not helping."

He turned back to the mirror again, rubbing a hand over his head—then pausing as his fingers traced over the drawn eight-ball.

"...I swear, if this doesn't come off—"

From outside, a voice rang out.

"Hey! You gotta see this!"

Another voice followed, barely holding in laughter.

"Oh man, somebody got hit already!"

Trapper closed his eyes briefly.

"...They know."

Hawkeye winced. "They definitely know."

Trapper took one last steadying breath, then squared his shoulders.

"Alright," he said. "New plan."

He turned, grabbing his jacket and tugging it on with purpose.

"We are not hiding. We are not running. We are finding whoever did this, and we are ending their entire St. Patrick's Day career."

Hawkeye couldn't help it—he grinned.

"That's my Eight-Ball."

Trapper shot him a glare.

"Keep it up, Pierce, and you're next."

Hawkeye immediately raised his hands. "I believe you. Deeply."

Trapper moved toward the tent flap, then stopped, glancing back at him.

"You coming?" he asked.

Hawkeye hopped up, still smiling, grabbing his boots.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Trapper nodded once, then pushed open the flap and stepped out into the cold morning air.

The second he did—

Silence fell.

Every head turned.

And then—

Laughter. Loud, uncontrollable, spreading across the camp like wildfire.

Trapper stood there, taking it for exactly three seconds.

Then he lifted his chin slightly, smirk creeping onto his face despite everything.

"Laugh it up," he called out. "Because whoever did this?"

He held up the note.

"They just declared war."

And just like that, the hunt for the St. Patrick's Day prankster officially began.