I need more MASH icons. Recs are welcome!

For a prompt on Tumblr:

Prompt! Your challenge, should you accept it, is to write for all your current writing fandoms "crashing hard after sleep deprivation".

If there ever was a more suitable MASH prompt, I don't know what it is. Also posted on Tumblr and on AO3.


The door of the Swamp banged. Charles jerked a little. It was Hunnicutt, stripping out of the coat he had been wearing on post-op OD duty. Outside the Swamp's mosquito-mesh walls, darkness was beginning to lighten into a wan gray dawn. Hunnicutt stopped to examine the sight on the other side of the tent, under a pool of lamplight over the makeshift crate table beside Charles's bunk.

This sight, specifically, was Pierce in stained scrubs, wound over and around Charles, and more-or-less asleep. Charles wasn't entirely sure if Pierce was actually asleep or not; he could feel Pierce jerk frequently, as if he started to sink into full sleep and then snapped half awake again. Sitting on his cot with his roommate attached to him as if attempting to merge into his lap, Charles was attempting to use Pierce's back as a writing desk, but it wasn't working very well.

"Yes, I know," Charles said between his teeth. "He came in here and walked around picking things up and talking until I told him several times at escalating volume to shut up and go to bed. Then he did this."

Hunnicutt dropped his coat on the end of Pierce's bunk and came over to Charles's side of the tent, because of course personal space was an unknown concept in the seventh circle of hell. "You know he took back-to-back-to-back shifts so we could grab a little bunk time."

"I know," Charles said, the admission dragged out of him. He was exhausted despite the few hours he'd snatched at the start of the night, but after another six hours in OR following that, he was wired enough that he'd thought to grab a little time to write Honoria and his parents until he was tired enough to properly sleep. But that was before Pierce fell asleep, or something vaguely adjacent to sleep, on his cot and half on top of him, pinning his writing arm. Any attempt to extract his arm, or himself, simply produced faint protesting noises and more clinging.

Hunnicutt bent over a little and ran his hand lightly across Pierce's gray-spattered black hair. "You know, Margaret told me he once stayed up for three days, invaded her tent, and conducted surveillance on her nurses." But the look Hunnicutt was giving Pierce was warmer than the story, or Pierce's current conduct, really warranted.

"And did he attach himself to her writing arm so that she could no longer finish a letter?" Charles inquired tartly, trying once again to extract his pen hand, only to have Pierce wrap his surprisingly strong fingers around Charles's wrist without otherwise moving.

"She said Trapper drugged him."

"What a good idea. Please go fetch a syringe."

Hunnicutt straightened, but looked down with fondness, it seemed, at both of them. "He's actually asleep now. I can give you a hand getting him back into his bunk, if you want."

"No need," Charles sighed. He gave up on getting his hand free, and picked up a book with his off hand instead. "It would probably only make things worse. Better leave him where he is."