Hey! I know I still have another story to finish (Actually, I've barely even started it), but the lack of Catch-22 fanfics SHOCKED me! So, here you go; enjoy!


He knocked back another shot of whiskey. It kissed his throat in a sweet, loving embrace. He wasn't supposed to be drinking on the job, really, but who would see him? He'd been holed up in his office for God-knows-how-long now. It was the best idea he ever had. No one was around to reject him.

He liked being alone.

Major Major Major Major had been doomed from the minute his father signed his birth certificate. He never knew it until Kindergarten, though. When he was signed up for the class, it was revealed to all that his name was not Caleb Major, as he had thought all of his short life, but Major Major Major. His poor, dear mother fell into the illness that took her life, and he himself had been dismissed by all of his classmates. Why should they trust him, if he'd been lying to them about his name all this time?

His life had been a string of bad luck since that moment. But it had been coming to him ever since his father penned the final "R" of his name onto the piece of paper that sealed his fate. He wanted to hate him, his father, but how could he? He was, after all, his father. If it weren't for that man, he would not even exist.

Though sometimes, he wished he didn't.

There was a timid knock on his door. He knew that knock anywhere. It belonged to Milo, the mess officer, dropping off his dinner.

Milo Minderbinder. The one person Major Major had actually considered a friend before he'd decided to cut himself off from the rest of the world. He felt bad about not allowing Milo to ever see him again, but he couldn't just make an exception to his new rule, could he?

He waited a while, perhaps longer than necessary, before walking over to the door to retrieve his food, once he was sure Milo had already left. But when he threw open the door, he saw, not a plate full of the usual mess hall sludge, but a young mess officer, his hair windswept; his cheeks red from the cold. Tiny flakes of frost stuck to the boy's hair, his lashes, his lips. Major Major swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Milo!"

"Major, sir." The younger male was shuddering from being in the bitter cold so long. Great. All that caution taken so that Milo wouldn't see him, and now, not only had he been seen, but the poor kid was freezing his balls off out here.

"Milo!" The older man was having trouble maintaining his composure. "Come in, will you?"

His assailant didn't waste any time following that order. He shuffled inside, rubbing his arms, blowing into his hands. The poor lad's knees were knocking. For someone who spends all his time in the mess hall, you'd think he'd be less scrawny.

The boy seemed to notice that his friend was waiting for an explanation. Gripping the older male's desk for support, he spoke sheepishly, still cold and a-trembling.

"I, uh, sir, I..." He was having trouble keeping his blush down. "It's been so long, y'know, and I... I miss you... In the mess hall, sometimes... a lot." The poor chap looked a frozen mess. The snow in his hair had melted, further adding to the illusion that Milo was a wet puppy.

In that moment, Major Major wanted nothing more than to press against that small body; than to warm him with his embrace. He tried to fool himself into thinking it was just the weeks of solitude getting to him, but he knew it was more than that. It was that smile. That laugh. It was all those times Milo stayed by his side, when the others rejected him.

"You're cold."

"Yes, sir, I am."

Major Major stepped closer to his young friend. Christ, was he really about to do this?

"S-sir?" Milo managed to stutter.

Major Major closed the distance between them, pressing his shivering young friend back against his desk, capturing those lovely lips in a kiss. Milo's body responded positively; his hands pressing to Major Major's chest, in a way that said 'more', not 'stop'. His tongue flickered over the young man's lips, and he was immediately granted access into Milo's mouth. Oh, the sounds he made.

The two pulled away for air; nothing connecting their lips but a thin string of saliva, but soon that too was broken. Milo stared longingly into the older male's eyes.

"Sir..."

"Call me Caleb."

"Caleb... that's such a nice name."

"It is, isn't it?"

The now-christened Caleb Major moved Milo's scarf away from his neck, and gently kissed the newly-exposed skin there. The younger male shivered beneath him, but he didn't think it had anything to do with the cold.

.

Catch-22; No one is to enter the office of Major Major Major Major, unless he isn't there. Except for Milo Minderbinder.