Title: Stay With Me
Author: Am-Chau Yarkona
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hawkeye/Sidney
Disclaimer: These are not my characters.
Summary: Post-war, Hawkeye needs a little help.

Daniel stood at the door of his son's bedroom, watching the younger man—younger in years, perhaps, but older, greyer, than when he was last at home—thrash about on the bed, locked in dreams that terrified where they should tantalize.

When Hawkeye woke, shaking and in tears, he found his father sitting by him, frowning. "The war again, Hawkeye? Can you tell me about it?"

Hawkeye shook his head, no. He couldn't talk about it; he didn't want his father to have to see what happened out there. It was too much.

"You're going to have talk to someone about it," Daniel said, gently. "You know that."

"Yeah," Hawkeye muttered. "I guess."

"If not me-- and that's okay, by the way, I wouldn’t talk to my father-- then who?" Hawkeye didn't reply, so Daniel began trying to guess, pulling names out of the letters his son had written, wanting to prompt Hawkeye into giving him a name, if only to make him shut up and leave. "Trapper? BJ? Charles?"

"Sidney," Hawkeye said. "Sidney Freedman. He’s in Springfield."

"I'll phone him now."

Hawkeye rolled over and tried not to go back to sleep.

* * *

"Of course I'll come, Doctor Pierce," Sidney had said on the phone, and now he was coming, driving north as fast as he could, trying to get to Crabapple Cove tonight.

//Oh, Hawkeye,// he thought, //You never take the easy way where there's a bumpier road, do you? You let me love you in Korea, but when the war ended, you wanted to escape.

//Well, my love, there's something I know that you don't. And that's this: you'll never quite escape the war. You're going to have to learn to live with it, and that means taking the good parts right along with the bad. Friendship, strength-- and in your case, us.

//This isn't going to be easy, for either of us. But we have to try.//

When Sidney arrived, the first rays of dawn were peeking over the horizon, jewelling the sea and turning the white-washed cottages from ghosts in the dark to blinding flashes of hope, peeling paint and all.

"I think he's asleep," Daniel said-- no need for greetings or petty questions. They knew of whom they spoke. "Probably best if you're the one who's there when he wakes up."

The room was dark-- Sidney opened the curtains, then knelt by the bedside to watch Hawkeye sleep in the rush of morning light. His eyes-- bright blue, Sidney remembered, with a sudden flash of clarity-- moved rapidly behind the lids, and his body shifted restlessly as he dreamt some desperate, hurried operation or hour of bombing raid.

Possibly both. Hawkeye had served for so long at the 4077th, where anything could happen, that it was impossible to predict what would haunt him most.

"Hawkeye," Sidney whispered, knowing how frightened Hawkeye must be, trapped in his dream, and also aware that sometimes a dreamer could hear and be comforted by a voice. "Hawkeye, it's Sidney." He put his hand out, nominally checking pulse (slightly raised) and temperature (normal), but mostly wanting simply to touch, to reassure Hawkeye that he was there, for real and not part of the dream, and to reassure himself that this really was Hawkeye, not one of his own nightmares. Heavens knew, his dreams of Korea-- the good and the bad-- featured Hawkeye more often than not.

It felt like forever, but in reality it was probably no more than an hour before Hawkeye twisted one final time and opened his eyes.

The sunlight took him by surprise, and he blinked hard for a moment. “Sidney?”

“That’s me.”

Hawkeye hauled himself up until he was sitting, and Sidney moved onto the edge of the bed. “Oh, Sidney. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“’Com’ere,” Hawkeye commanded, sparing a glance to check the door was closed and then reaching out for Sidney. They hugged each other hard, then turned their heads almost at the same time and kissed, four months of separation fuelling their hunger.

“It’s okay, Hawkeye,” Sidney said, when Hawkeye stopped counting Sidney’s teeth long enough to breathe and rest on his shoulder. “I am real, you know.”

“I need to be sure,” Hawkeye replied. “What’s the time?”

Sidney gave him a puzzled look, but checked his watch and answered, “Just gone nine.”

“Then dad’ll be leaving in a few seconds, if he hasn’t gone already,” Hawkeye said. “We should be safe enough.”

“Hawkeye, are you sure?”

“That’ll we be safe? Pretty much. That I want you? Totally.”

“That this is the right time?”

“I’m sure we may never get a better time.”

“That’s interesting logic.”

“Don’t come all coy with me, Sidney Freedman. I may be a nervous wreck of a surgeon, but I know you.”

Sidney looked at him for a moment, wanting to question the words ‘nervous wreck’, wondering what they meant; wanting to lean forward and kiss him again; and wanting to drown in the eyes which were at once as bright and as dark as he remembered them. He was saved from the need to do any of these when there was a knock at the door.

He moved away, back to sit in the chair by the bedside. Hawkeye nodded at him, and then called, “Come in, Dad.”

Daniel poked his head around the door, looked at Sidney briefly and then focused on Hawkeye. “I’ve got to go to work, Hawkeye. You’ll be okay, won’t you? There’s food downstairs when you want it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hawkeye said. “Don’t worry about me.”

It was what he always said; but for once, Daniel could believe it. Something was there—something in Hawkeye’s smile, maybe, or in his voice—that said that if he wasn’t okay anyway, Sidney would make it okay.

“I’ll see you this evening,” Daniel replied. “Behave yourself.” An old joke, but at least he felt safe making it.

Sidney and Hawkeye watched the door close, and then simply watched each other’s faces until they heard the front door bang.

“Now,” Hawkeye said, finally remembering to breathe. “Please, Sidney. Now.”

Aware that Hawkeye was scrutinizing every move he made, Sidney went slowly towards him. He caught Hawkeye’s hands in his, preventing Hawkeye pulling him closer, and began to kiss him, very lightly—not on the lips to start with, just over his face and neck, mapping the familiar features.

“Don’t be a tease, Sidney,” Hawkeye moaned, trying to push forward and capture Sidney’s mouth with his.

“I’m not teasing,” Sidney replied, leaning back just a little.

“Oh, come here,” Hawkeye said, wresting his hands free and yanking Sidney towards him. “I need you, no joking.”

This time, Sidney let himself be pulled in, kissed desperately as Hawkeye kicked sheets and blankets out of the way, and hauled into the narrow bed. The rational part of his brain was still saying “it won’t help, not as much as he thinks it will; sex doesn’t cure anything”; but the slightly less rational part of his mind replied, “it helps with the loneliness, though, and it’ll help him remember that there are some good things in life.”

The completely non-rational part of his brain wasn’t participating in thinking any more. It had gone down the non-structured vowel sounds route some minutes ago, reacting to the feel of Hawkeye’s hands on his body, Hawkeye’s body next to his, and had taken his mouth with it.

“Too many clothes,” Hawkeye was saying. It took a moment for Sidney to realise that as Hawkeye was already naked, he must be the one at fault.

“Oh,” he said, and started trying to undo the buttons on his shirt.

“I’ll help,” Hawkeye told him, and they set to work.

After a couple of minutes, Hawkeye started to laugh. “We’re both surgeons, we can do all sorts of delicate things, but get us in bed and tell us to undo some buttons, and we’re hopeless.”

“We’re nearly half-way,” Sidney said, but he was starting to laugh, too.

“It’s not an expensive shirt, is it?” Hawkeye asked.

“Well, no, not really, but…” but Hawkeye had already ripped it, bypassing the need to undo more buttons.

“Hurry up, or am I going to rip your trousers off you as well?”

Sidney hurried, stripping in what felt like record time, though he had a nagging doubt that various times in Korea had required faster.

Hawkeye pulled him back onto the bed, into his arms, and they held each other close. A moment of stillness, and then Hawkeye began to move, thrusting up against Sidney’s body.

Sidney responded, and quickly realised that there would be no time for fancy preparations or positions. They were simply too desperate, too needy, to muck about.

There was too much to think about. The sensations began to muddy into one another—touch of skin on skin; scent of Hawkeye so close by; tightness welling up inside him, a wave of heat—and then he was bursting.

* * *

Somehow, he managed to stay slightly aware through the fog of sensation, aware enough to know that Hawkeye spasmed beneath him, that they were clinging tight to each other.

He shut his eyes, wanting to remain undistracted. “Sidney,” Hawkeye whispered in his ear, simple syllables full of love and lust and meaning they had never held before.

“I’m here, Hawkeye,” Sidney said when he stopped panting, because that was the only thing he knew.

Hawkeye kissed him, and when that ended, Sidney managed to pull back a little, opening his eyes to find blue ones only inches away. His first reaction was to smile—but then he noticed that Hawkeye was beginning to weep, his eyes filling with tears.

“Hawkeye? What’s wrong?” A drop escaped to roll down Hawkeye’s cheek, and Sidney reached up to brush it away, feeling his heart twist inside his chest. “Tell me, love.”

“I love you,” Hawkeye said, softly, trying to smile. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I know. And I love you, too.” Sidney still frowned, concerned.

“Do something for me, please?”

Sidney nodded. “Anything.”

“Stay while I sleep?”

“Of course.” Sidney rolled, rearranging them so that he could hold Hawkeye comfortably in his arms. “I’ll be here.”

Hawkeye rested his head on Sidney’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Stories