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I Know What You Did Next Summer

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Radar O’Reilly knows that his abilities have always been more than just a combination of good hearing and intuition. When his mother would tell him about his uncle Ernest, he knew that he shared more with the man than just his big ears and glasses. Radar would always show up at the dinner table two minutes before his mother yelled for him. He was never surprised by a pop quiz in school. Even now, in Korea, he knows what Colonel Blake wants from him before Henry can even manage to get the words out. It’s getting harder and harder to pretend that it’s just intuition, or good hearing, or a lucky guess. Henry dictates a letter and Radar has almost the whole page finished before Henry speaks two sentences. Radar can predict things before they happen. He can also sometimes tell what people are thinking or feeling, if they’re thinking or feeling loudly enough. 

That’s why Radar is currently avoiding Captain Benjamin “Hawkeye” Pierce as much as he can. It’s nothing personal, he and Hawkeye have always been close, and up until a few weeks ago Radar couldn’t have imagined anything happening that would cause himself to want to duck into the latrine just because he spied Hawkeye leaving the mess tent with Trapper and he doesn’t want to get too close. 

But Radar can sometimes tell what’s going to happen before it does, and he can sometimes tell what people are thinking and feeling, and recently Radar has been picking up different kinds of thoughts and feelings from Hawkeye. Thoughts and feelings that he doesn’t particularly want to dwell on, except he can’t help himself. 

Sometimes when he’s next to Hawkeye, Radar can tell what Hawkeye wants to do. It feels like he knows what the surgeon is going to do, but he never actually acts on his thoughts. Thoughts that Radar has never acted on himself. When Hawkeye claps him on the shoulder after a scheme well done, Radar gets the distinct impression that Hawkeye is going to… well… kiss him. On the lips and everything! A full body shudder will go through Radar at the thought, and he can never be sure that it’s entirely disgust. His cheeks go red and all it does is make Hawkeye’s thoughts clearer, make the kiss like crystal in Radar’s prescient mind. If that wasn’t bad enough, something is radiating off of Hawkeye in waves whenever Radar enters the swamp to deliver mail, or when he sits next to Radar in the mess tent, or when he needs something from Radar and he leans in close to be as persuasive as possible. It feels like warmth and sweetness and it makes Radar a little dizzy, to be hit with the force of it. 

Nurse Jameson even gave Radar a peck on the cheek during his weekly mail delivery last week, and all he could think about was the mental impression of Hawkeye’s lips on his. How Hawkeye had thought about snatching the letter out of Radar’s hand and holding the Corporal close to his chest. Radar can tell when Hawkeye is about to pull him in by the dog tags and bury his face in Radar’s neck after too many hours of meatball surgery: but Hawkeye never actually acts on his intentions, and it’s starting to drive Radar crazy. He walks into the loudspeaker pole twice as much as usual because of Hawkeye’s thoughts. Radar has to do something about it, or risk another bloody nose.   

Radar knows that Hawkeye is alone in the swamp. He saw Trapper rushing into the O.R., and he heard Frank’s giggling from Major Houlihan’s tent as he had walked by. Still, he knocks on the splintering wooden beams and gives a hesitant “Hawkeye?”. 

“Ah, my favorite cabin boy, come in.” Hawkeye says out loud only after Radar already has one foot inside. Hawkeye is smirking from his cot and holding a book, which is soon forgotten and placed on his bedside crate. He sits up and pats the space next to him. 

“What’s the matter, Radar? Did the other boys hide your underwear while you were in the shower again?” He asks, all smile and bright eyes that Radar has seen red rimmed and tear stained and too tired than anybody’s eyes have the right to be. Hawkeye’s eyes always seem to brighten when they see Radar, who simply fidgets in response to the joke and makes no move to join the other man on the cot. Hawkeye definitely seems to notice the lack of Radar’s usual flustered and indignant responses. There’s a silent beat. Radar steels himself for what he’s about to do. He trusts Hawkeye. He likes Hawkeye. He took Radar under his wing almost immediately and they’ve helped each other enough times that trusting each other is second nature. He wants to tell Hawkeye about his abilities. He wants to tell Hawkeye that he knows how he feels. That he might feel the same way. But it’s hard. He’s never confessed to a man before. Hell, he’s never confessed to anyone before and the man he would usually ask for advice is sitting right in front of him, concern and amusement fighting in his deep blue eyes. Radar takes a deep breathe. He pushes his glasses further up his nose and adjusts his hat. 

“It’s like this, alright? I have this… talent, and… oh gee! It’s easier to just show you.” Radar manages. He can feel Hawkeye’s eyes on him as he takes a few steps through the tiny tent until he’s positioned in front of the shabby supply crate table that he and the guys use to play poker while Frank is away. Playing cards and the trinkets they use as chips are still scattered from last night’s game. Radar had missed it for obvious reasons. The last time he had joined a game, Hawkeye had suggested strip poker, and Radar had never been more grateful for his unique talents and subsequent winning streak. What Radar’s planning now is a cheap trick, but it’s self explanatory, and Radar has always been proud of his ability to guess cards. 

Radar covers his eyes with one hand and uses the remaining one to blindly grab a random handful of cards from the makeshift table. He walks quickly back to the cot and clumsily thrusts the cards at Hawkeye, who struggles unsuccessfully to hold all of them. A few flutter to the dirt covered floor. 

“Radar,” Hawkeye begins patiently, “as much as I love handing you all of the hard earned cash I hustle from Trapper, I don’t think now’s the time.” Radar peeks hesitantly and then uncovers his eyes when he realizes Hawkeye is holding the cards towards himself. 

“This isn’t about poker, sir. Well, not really. I mean, sometimes I can tell whether people are bluffing or not and then Colonel Flagg gets real mad...” 

“Radar, are you gonna get to the point or should I reschedule the war for next Tuesday?” 

“No sir, sorry Hawkeye.” Radar looks down nervously and bites his lip. He risks a peek up at Hawkeye through his eyelashes and then- 

“Oh gee, sir, there you go again!” Radar laments, covering his face with his hand as he feels a blush spread across his cheeks up to his ears. The affectionate warmth rolls off of Hawkeye in waves, and it’s almost dizzying. He can see Hawkeye stroking his cheek, can practically feel Hawkeye’s thumb running over his bottom lip, but it’s all a projection, a false prediction, and the the real Hawkeye’s normally easygoing facade drops in a heartbeat. He stands from the cot and hazards a step closer to Radar, but the younger man takes a step back before Hawk’s foot even lands on the ground, maintaining the distance between them. 

“Radar, you have to tell me what I’m doing wrong. I’m not a psychic.” Hawkeye says gently, and Radar jerks. 

“But I am, sir!” Radar says loudly, before remembering himself and rushing to cover his mouth with his hand. When he risks looking into Hawkeye’s face, Hawk’s expression has gone from concern to confusion. “A psychic that- that is.” Radar specifies, as if the other man really needed it. A smirk slowly forms on Hawkeye’s face, and Radar huffs as he can feel the disbelief in Hawkeye’s mind. Radar’s shoulders start to droop, but then he remembers his plan. His plan to make Hawkeye believe just like his folks back home believe. Radar can see understanding dawn on Hawkeye’s face, can feel Hawkeye come to the correct conclusion. 

“Does this have anything to do with -”      

“Look at the cards in your hand, sir-” 

The two sentences are spoken in unison, and Hawkeye blinks at him, momentarily stunned. Radar tries not to feel too proud about being one of the only people around who can predict Hawkeye, or get him to be quiet. 

“Okay, Radar. I’m looking at the cards. Now I’m assuming you’re going to read them off to me correctly, and then I convince Henry to sell you to the circus. I can see the posters now, ‘shortest man in the world also knows all the cards in a deck’.” 

“Oh will you just knock it off for once,” Radar snaps. Hawkeye grins at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, and Radar doesn’t know if the thought of look at him comes from himself or Hawkeye. 

“Alright, Radar. Go ahead. Show old Hawkeye what you can do.” Hawkeye says genially. Radar closes his eyes and focuses. It’s hard, because Hawkeye is thinking really loud now. Thinking about how cute Radar looks, and Radar can see him take off Radar’s hat and ruffle his hair. It’s hard to find the right cards, what with how loud Hawk’s thinking is. Thinking about Radar’s glasses and Radar’s eyelashes underneath his glasses. This is getting dangerous, because it’s one thing for Hawkeye to like Radar, even as much as Radar knows Hawkeye likes him, but now Hawkeye is thinking about Radar’s lips again and- 

“You’re thinking about how badly you want to kiss me! You always think about kissing me! But you never do!” Radar shouts. 

The smirk slips off of Hawkeye’s face faster than soap in the showers. He blinks, taken aback while Radar covers his mouth with one hand and peeks around the Swamp, checking the screen windows for eavesdroppers. Normally, Hawkeye would join him with mocking, exaggerated movements, but the other man is standing still, eyes locked on Radar’s face. Radar can feel himself start to sweat and he wonders when he started breathing so hard. 

“How did you- Radar, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Unless in these psychic visions you happened to look a lot like Nurse Able.” Hawkeye says, voice steady but rising in volume. Radar shakes his head, and now he’s taking a gentle step toward Hawkeye, who watches him warily. In this moment Hawkeye reminds Radar of the stray dogs around the compound. The warm fuzzy feeling is quickly being overtaken by apprehension and guilt.

“I know you do. I can hear what people think sometimes and know how they feel and stuff. I could ever since I was real little.” 

“Radar, I know that you think-”

“Two sevens, a three, and a five!”

Hawkeye sighs and runs a hand over his face. He stares at his feet for a few moments before coming to a decision.

“Does it bother you?” He asks hesitantly. Radar shakes his head vehemently. 

“Oh no, sir. I’ve lived with it all my life!” He assures, but Hawkeye shakes his head and steps forward and places his hand on Radar’s shoulder, faltering slightly.

“I mean, how I feel about you. How I think about you. Does that bother you?” Hawkeye’s voice is barely above a whisper, and Radar is pretty sure that he can feel himself start to blush at the proximity between their bodies. He’s never seen Hawkeye this unsure before.

“Why would it?” 

“Radar, there are no shortage of reasons why me kissing you is a bad idea with a capital B. I’m older than you by at least a decade and we’re up to our elbows in kid blood eight days a week. And let’s not forget the teensy weensy fact that I’m a man !” Hawkeye’s voice is bordering on hysterical. 

Radar swallows. He slowly brings his hand up to cover Hawkeye’s where it’s resting on his shoulder, and he feels it tighten its grip. 

“Well, gee, I guess I just wish you would try instead of just thinking about it in your head all the time.” 

Hawkeye freezes and looks at Radar like the Corporal just slapped him in front of Henry. He finally takes the initiative and closes the distance between them, pressing a chaste kiss to Radar’s lips and then pulling back just inches to study his reaction. Radar is sure he’s blushing now. The tips of his ears are burning red hot and he licks his lips without thinking about it. When he manages to meet Hawkeye’s eyes, the other man is watching him, expression questioning, and Radar knows exactly what he’s looking for. 

Radar moves Hawkeye’s hand off of his shoulder and before he can pull away Radar laces their fingers together. He uses the contact to pull Hawkeye down into another kiss. This time, Radar can feel Hawkeye’s mouth open against his, can feel Hawkeye’s tongue running over his bottom lip. He pulls back just far enough to get the words out. 

“I don’t have a whole lot of experience with this kinda stuff.” He murmurs against Hawkeye’s cheek. Hawkeye simply hums in response until it's clear that Radar is still uneasy. He pulls back, puts his both his hands on Radar’s shoulders. 

“Radar, you can read my thoughts or something similar, right?” Hawkeye asks. His voice is low and slightly rough already and Radar can only nod jerkily in response. Hawkeye gives him another peck on the lips before continuing, “Then wouldn’t you be able to tell if I was disappointed? I’d bet any of Frank’s belongings that all you’re getting from me is interest.”

Hawkeye is the smartest person Radar knows on the compound. The wet heat of Hawkeye's mouth and the feeling of their tongues rubbing against each other is better than any psychic vision and Radar's head is swimming. It was bad enough feeling Hawkeye's love (because it dawns on Radar that that's what it was the whole time: love) for him from a few feet away, but now that they’re touching it’s almost overwhelming and he can’t help but moan into Hawkeye’s mouth. The other man draws back with some difficulty. 

“We can’t do this here. Frank or Trapper could come in any second and-” 

“Nobody will walk in on us.” Radar assures, his voice is shaky to his own ears but he’s confident. Even if he were wrong and somebody did start to make their way to the swamp, Radar is sure he would be able to tell before they actually walked in. Hawkeye stares at Radar in wonder for only a second before he remembers what he’s doing. 

“Well in that case.” Hawkeye says mischievously. His characteristic grin is fixed firmly back on his face and he reaches between them, runs his hand down Radar’s chest and over his stomach until he reaches the bulge in Radar’s fatigues. Radar squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers, much to his own dismay. The combination of his own feelings and Hawkeye’s desire is all too much and his legs feel weak. He clutches onto Hawkeye for support. Radar’s breath catches. 

“Oh you really don’t need to do that sir!” Radar chokes out seconds before Hawkeye walks him back against the central pole of the tent and then drops to his knees in front of him.

“Radar,” Hawkeye begins huskily as he struggles with Radar’s belt, “You know what I want right?” The question is unnecessary. They both know the answer, and it’s doubly obvious when Radar tangles his fingers in black hair without needing to be told. Radar keens before Hawkeye even has him out of his briefs and Hawkeye gives a pleased chuckle.   

“You can tell what I’m gonna do to you, right? You like what you see?” Hawkeye’s voice is gravelly. He ends the second question with a kiss to the head of Radar’s dick and Radar can only nod, eyes scrunched tight. There’s pleasure from Hawkeye’s hand grabbing his cock and pleasure from knowing how badly Hawkeye wants to suck him off, and lust is so heavy in the air around them that it’s all Radar can feel. 

“Tell me.” Hawkeye murmurs, his breath hot on Radar’s thigh. Radar’s eyes shoot open, unfocused. 

“Oh, geez, Hawkeye. Come on!” Radar pleads. Hawkeye has one hand wrapped around him but keeps his mouth a tortuous distance away.
“Tell me what I’m going to do to you. Tell me what you feel.” Hawkeye’s hand is starting to move now, a tight circle that Radar can’t help but to thrust into. Precome is making the slide a little easier but it’s nothing compared to what Radar knows is coming. 

“Y- you’re gonna put your mouth on it. You can go down really far. You don’t even choke or n- nothing. Oh god…” Radar thinks his eyes might start to tear up. Hawkeye rewards him with open mouth kisses on his hip that trail slowly to where Radar needs them. When Hawkeye finally wraps his lips around the head of Radar’s cock, Radar tightens his fingers reflexively in Hawkeye’s hair. The other man whimpers and the sensations make Radar bite his lip hard. He’s never seen Hawk vulnerable like this. He can feel every ounce of want between them.

“You’re gonna start touching yourself...” Radar squeaks as Hawkeye runs his tongue against the underside of his dick. Hawkeye’s oral ministrations stutter only for a second, and it takes Radar a few moments to realize that he said it because Hawkeye wanted him to. Hawkeye thinks it’s hot and the lines between them are becoming blurred. Radar’s too turned on to seperate them entirely. He’s twitching in Hawkeye’s mouth. At some point, Hawkeye has unbuttoned his own pants and is now palming himself through his own army regulation underwear. Radar can feel the moments of Hawkeye’s body along with the movement of his tongue. Hawkeye picks up the pace and Radar knows he isn’t going to last long. He can feel Hawkeye’s mouth but he can also feel Hawkeye jerking himself off as if it was his own hand and his own cock. He gives a shout at the realization and Hawkeye uses his free hand to stroke the parts of Radar that aren’t in his mouth. 

“You’re gonna f-finish… you wanted this so bad… Hawkeye!” It’s the most sensation that Radar has ever felt in his life, knowing how badly Hawkeye wants him, having Hawkeye sucking him down like his life depends on it, feeling Hawkeye’s needy moans against him, feeling Hawkeye touch himself as if it was his own cock, as if they were the same person. He’s pulling on Hawkeye’s hair and the reaction is immediate, the other man bobbing his head and humming approvingly. Radar knows he’s about to cum, can feel the orgasm before it actually happens and his hips jerk without his permission, but Hawkeye just takes it, preoccupied with his own efforts. 

Radar’s hips stutter. Hawkeye is thinking about fucking him, about kissing him, about jerking him off behind the motorpool. There’s too many dirty thoughts to keep track of, and the Hawkeye is cumming, hard, and the combination of Hawkeye’s desires and Hawkeye’s orgasm are finally enough to drive Radar over the edge. 

Afterward, they barely have time to straighten themselves out before Radar jerks to attention.

“Major Burns.” He says, voice betraying his disappointment at being interrupted so soon. Hawkeye groans and flops down on his bunk moments before Frank storms into the tent. 

“What the hell is he doing in here?” Frank asks with his usual malice. Radar knows Hawkeye wants to throw his book at him and he tries to shoot the surgeon a placating look. 

“You’d better not be gambling!” Frank continues. He walks past Radar, bumping into him, and swipes the cards that Hawkeye had set down next to his bunk. 

“With that hand? I sure hope not sir.” Radar says cheekily. 

“Get out of here!” Frank points emphatically toward the door, and Radar ducks his head before speedily moving to comply almost out of reflex. Before he can make it out the door, he hears Hawkeye’s voice.

“Oh, Radar. Henry wanted us to check for more 3.0 silk tomorrow, remember? Meet me in the supply tent after breakfast. If you dare to eat the oatmeal I’ll understand if you’re late.” Hawkeye says easily, punctuating the invitation with a wink. Radar’s face brightens instantly. He knows he’s blushing and his lips twitch upwards at the corners without his permission.

“Yes, sir!” Radar chirps, and he exits the tent, feeling extremely relieved.