Music Therapy

It’s been a rough day and Starsky needs something to align his chakra. Hutch is there to put in a hand.

Written for the 20 minute challenge.

“A shot of rye,” Starsky said, smacking the bar with the flat of his hand.

“You suddenly think this be the Bucket of Blood and you’re the sheriff about to take down the Clanton gang?” Huggy chuckled, drawing a draught beer for Hutch.

“He’s had a hard day,” Hutch said after a long swallow of beer. “There were no donuts in the squad room and then he got spaghetti all over his leather jacket.”

Starsky pretended to growl like a dog.

“Thought you had a faint whiff of marinara.” Huggy nodded, getting out some Jim Beam. “You want this neat or—”

“Shaken, not stirred,” Hutch said, grinning into Starsky’s glower.

“A big glass.” Starsky crossed his arms, daring either of them to tease him more.

“Only comes in these itty bitty ones, my brother.” Huggy poured a stiff one and pushed it over to Starsky.

In reality, Starsky didn’t actually like whiskey that much, but he was in a foul mood and planned to wallow for a while. Thus, fire down his throat in one go.

Damn—the stuff was like lighter fluid. Couldn’t quite figure out why some people had whiskey tastings, similar to wine appreciation. Wine could be soothing and mellow, but never Jim Beam. At least not to his palate. It made him ornery and restless, which went well with Huggy’s imagined Sheriff of Bay City. That had a nice ring to it, come to think of it. Wasn’t there a song something like I fought the law and the law won? Or I shot the Sheriff?

“No nuts, Hug?” Hutch asked casually.

“Had to send Anita to the market, the supplier was plum out,” Huggy replied.

Starsky stalked over to the Juke box, perusing the selection.

“Starsk, that thing don’t run,” Huggy called out. “Another job on my to-do list. When you two pay your bar tab, maybe I can afford a repairman.”

“I can fix it.” Starsky aimed a swift kick at the middle of the machine, directly below the turn table. Suddenly, ABBA started in mid-phrase as if they had never stopped. The kick had settled something raw inside Starsky and he straightened his shoulders, more relaxed. More…he glanced over at Huggy and Hutch at the bar. More horny.

Choosing a song that had nothing to do with legal matters, he pushed in a dime.

“Blue moon, You saw me standing alone, Without a dream in my heart, Without a love of my own..”

Hutch slid off his bar stool, walking over, gazing at Starsky. The blue neon from the jukebox bathed Hutch in otherworldly colors.

Starsky held out his arms and Hutch came into him, sliding his arms around to cup Starsky’s ass. They swayed together through the next stanza of the song.

FIN