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Wuemsel's Fanfic Corner

'Nother Hen


Hutch woke to the sound of the door, and, blinking to fight the sleep induced by the pain pills the doctor had prescribed him, lifted his head drowsily.

"Starsk?" he called, his voice still a little weak from sleep and the effects of the bloodloss. Though the doctor at the hospital had found it okay to send him home two days ago, he had fully agreed to Starsky's vehement insistence to stay with his injured friend.

Now, Starsky entered the room with a concerned frown, still wearing his leather jacket.

"Hey," he greeted his friend, approaching him. "Did you call? Something wrong? Pain's gotten worse?"

"No," Hutch quickly replied, smiling warmly at his partner's worried face. "No, just heard the door. Where d'you go?"

A slight grin crossed Starsky's lips while he shrugged out of his jacket. "That's a surprise."

Hutch eyed him questioningly, carefully sitting up.

"Oh what, you want it now?" Starsky teased. "Hm. I'm not sure if you're already strong enough to spill tears of gratefullness."

"Oh joy, he hired a cook!" Hutch exclaimed and chuckled at Starsky's hurt look.

"I'm so sorry there is no spores delivery," the curly haired detective mumbled. "'sides, I always try to get at least some green stuff on your pizza."

Laughing, Hutch leaned back in bed. "Okay, if it's no real food, what is it then?"

"Just a second," Starsky said and rushed out of the room only to return a minute later with a somewhat big item hidden behind his bag. "Ready?"

Hutch nodded, looking like a little kid on his birthday.

"Ta daa!" Starsky exclaimed loudly as he turned around so that Hutch could see what he held in his hands.

There was a short, wide-eyed silence, then only whisper. "Starsk..."

"It still has scars, but otherwise it's as good as new," Starsky said apologetically, stepping over to place Hutch's repaired guitar on the bed next to the surprised patient and sit down himself.

"How did you..." Hutch stuttered, as he reached out to gingerly caress the smooth material of the instrument. "Oh, 'twas nothing really. I know this guy who can fi... Hey, you're not really starting to cry now, blintz, huh?"

"No, don't worry," Hutch quickly smiled, blinking a little.

"Good. I mean, hey, you know this was pure selfishness. When your arm's okay again, I expect a concert."

Hutch just grinned, his hand reaching over to briefly squeeze Starsky's. His partner squeezed back before standing, clearing his throat. "Okay. You ready for dinner?"

"Uh... Do I have to?"

"Ow that hurt. You know, you should think of the moment we just shared when you feel the urge to complain about your pizza tonight," Starsky advised in mock seriousness.

Hutch bowed his head as if ashamed, one corner of his mouth slightly arched, though.

"And don't give me that sick puppy look!" Starsky said, stepping backwards. "I'm NOT cooking that funny green stuff in your fridge. No way!"

Innocently lifting his brows, Hutch looked up again. Starsky wasn't sure, but he thought he could even see his partner's lip quiver. What a performance!

Sighing deeply, his shoulders slumped, he sat down on the bed again. "Do I have to peel the stuff?"




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