BJ and Hawkeye but they’re actually forced to be flight attendants now for some reason
The General’s got three stars on his shoulder and two eyes narrowed in suspicion, telling BJ they may be running out of luck sooner than anticipated if he doesn’t do something, and quick. BJ holds the empty drink tray steady and flashes his most affable smile, hoping it’s enough to get them through the next two hours.
“Can I get you something to drink, Sir?”
“They’ve got medical corp running snack duty on transports, now?” The General hazards, eyeing BJ’s lapel before raking his gaze down the rest of BJ’s person in a manner implying the man’s hunger isn’t constrained to traditional airplane fare.
“Ah, well, we’ve been hand selected,” BJ glances down and catches the flash of his dress uniform Caduceus, as well as the General’s pinky extended from his armrest to brush the fabric of BJ’s pants. “You could say it’s, ah, ha, a pilot program.”
The General’s suspicion eases, BJ’s joke getting a deserved laugh, but the moment is short lived as Hawkeye clears his throat loudly from the bulkhead.
“Be right back, Sir.”
“You be sure to do that, Son.”
BJ takes a breath and forces a smile, easing between carelessly extended feet and elbows to reach the sanctuary of the bulkhead, where Hawkeye is frantically filing through drawers and beverage carts to fill the endless orders BJ keeps bringing him.
“We’re out of gin, and you’re going to get us both court marshaled,” Hawkeye grits through his teeth, lips turned up in a rictus smile as he hands over an Old Fashioned and a glass of Coke. “Talbert, 3A. Grant, 4B.”
“More like 4F.” BJ scoffs turns his back to the cabin — full to bursting with brass who are clearly growing curious about the two very male Captains playing stewardess — and tugs the curtains closed. “Who’s idea was it again to just ‘hop on’ the first transport to Tokyo? And you forgot the garnish.”
“1. Talbert can’t have citrus, 2. How was I supposed to know we were hijacking a consulate plane?”
“This is a whole lot of risk for one lousy package, Hawk. And steer clear of 6D.”
“Why? Did he recognize you?”
“Well, he clocked me in one sense, yeah, I’ll give him that. Little worried I might have to live up to my name if we’re getting out of this unscathed.”
“Remind the General you’re not that kind of girl.” Hawkeye says, half apologizing before giving BJ a light hip-check to send him back into the thick of it. “We just have to survive the flight, okay? Just keep bringing them drinks they’ll be too sloshed to know your ass from Ginger Rogers’.”
“Yeah, Hawk. That’s what I’m concerned about.”
