Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang

The witch doctor, he told me what to do…

Most updated version here: http://community.livejournal.com/starskyhutch911/106794.html

Hutch was woken by a groan from the next bed. “Starsky?” he queried sleepily. When he got no answer except another moan, he rolled over and squinted at the sleeping form of his partner. Starsky had kicked his covers off, and he was jerking his head side to side, clearly agitated. A nightmare?

Hutch switched on the light. “Starsky!”

The other man continued to toss his head. He whimpered and spasmed all over, as if in pain. Aw, hell. Worried now, Hutch climbed out of bed and went to his friend’s. He patted Starsky firmly on the cheek. “Hey! C’mon, wake up.”

Starsky’s eyes finally slit open, the murky blue not quite focusing. He mumbled something.

“What?” Hutch leaned a little closer.

“…obey…”

With a suddenness that almost had Hutch believing in levitation, Starsky shot up and slammed Hutch to the bed.

“Whoa! Ouch!” he complained as Starsky bonked his forehead directly and seemingly deliberately into his own. “What are you doing?”

“…obey…” Starsky droned. He’d plastered his body against Hutch’s and grabbed both of Hutch’s hands with his own, spreading them out like they were ready to make a double layer snow angel together. Hutch pushed at him but had very little leverage.

“Starsk?”

***

Papa Theodore frowned. Something was wrong. There was an interference with his curse, not exactly cancelling it, but distorting it somehow to make it harmless.

He drew apart the two death dolls he’d made of the detectives who were his next pair of targets. He studied the dark-haired one, the one he was best able to control. It looked fine, but when he’d tried to put his magic on it, some great force had skewed it.

Selecting another needle, he carefully pinned the dark one’s other hand. That should do it.

He brought the dolls together again.

***

Starsky’s left hand jerked, and he cried out.

“Starsky?” Hutch had managed to pry his partner off of him and back down to lie on his back. “Wake up, buddy. You’re starting to scare me, here.”

It was no use. Starsky was still reacting as if sleepwalking. He looked right through Hutch even as he grimaced in evident pain.

The grimace changed into a look of confusion. Then of focus. Starsky stared at him for a moment — then lunged up and smashed their lips together.

“Mmarnnf?!” Hutch flailed, and Starsky grabbed his hands again, crashing them both back down. He shoved, but Starsky refused to move. He tried to turn his head to the side, but Starsky just followed him. He had Hutch pinned like the world’s largest starfish.

“Ssturmshie, germoff!”

***

It wasn’t working. The force was too strong. Papa Theodore scowled as he pulled the dolls apart again. He didn’t like being bested, and it was bad for his reputation. Looking from one doll to the other, however, he sensed that the power of goodness that was resisting his killing curse could not be broken.

Muttering to himself, he looked through his tools for the symbol of water. He would just have to drown them instead. Less elegant, and certainly lacking the ironic touch he was proud of.

It’d do the job, though, and that would have to be enough.

***

Hutch heaved again, and this time their lips separated with an unflattering shpop, and Starsky went over.

Maybe Hutch had been a little too enthusiastic. He winced at the loud thump his partner made as he landed on the floor.

“Ow! What the hell?”

Hutch scooted to the edge of the bed and peered over.

Starsky was lying prone, and he was waving his hands frantically like they were on fire. “Owowowowowowowow…” he was chanting. “Hutch?” He seemed to come awake for the first time. “Ow, ow.” He licked one palm and shook it some more. “You won’t believe it. I just had the weirdest dream.”

Hutch sighed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

END