A New Vocabulary

Starsky and Hutch are undercover and on the case.

Answer to a 20 minute fic challenge to use the words: Set and Post

Starsky looked through the viewfinder of his camera, watching Hutch as he went around the show ring at the Leander Riding Club. This assignment had brought a whole new vocabulary to Starsky’s world—and he grinned as he remembered the word—post. That’s what Hutch’s up and down motion in union with Lollipop’s trot was.

He snapped a few photos as he heard –and smelled—the approach of Mary Jane Leander-Hoskin. He resisted the urge to cough at the overwhelming smell of her perfume—Tabu. He’d always hated that perfume and he was growing to hate it even more.

“Mr. Skyler.” Her voice was as cold as the diamonds she wore.

“Mrs. Hoskin.” He lowered his camera and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “Charming as ever.”

She stood next to him, her eyes following Hutch’s progress. “Mr. Svenson appears to be doing quite well in our little show.”

“Hmm…”Starsky kept his voice non-committal and used his telephoto lens to home in on Hutch’s strong thighs, all steel underneath the tight jodhpurs—another word he’d added to his vocabulary. He was certainly going to enjoy developing these pictures.

“Mr. Skyler.”

Starsky looked at her again. She was smiling—the smile of a predator.

“I know who you are. And who Mr. Svenson is.” She brought out a small pistol and pointed it directly at his heart.

“I didn’t know my reputation preceded me,” Starsky said. He moved cautiously, trying to keep one eye on her while he kept another on Hutch. There had been two suspicious deaths at the riding club over the past month. He wasn’t willing to have him and Hutch be the next two.

Hutch’s circuit was bringing him closer to the fence where Starsky stood with Mrs. Hoskin. Starsky could hear the thud of horse hooves in the ring and Hutch’s voice urging Lollipop.

He needed to time it right. He listened to the beat of those hooves, counted, and even though he wasn’t a praying man, prayed everything would work out.

Lollipop and Hutch approached the turn, Starsky readied himself, and as Hutch slowed, Starsky moved.

It was over in an instant—Hutch off Lollipop and over the fence, Mrs. Hoskin tackled to the ground and handcuffed, the pistol now safely in Starsky’s possession as he read her rights.

Afterwards, they drove home, Hutch still in his riding gear and smelling of horse and hay. Starsky had grown to love that smell. He wondered if he could persuade Hutch to continue that pursuit.

“Glad to be away from the rich jet-set, Starsk?” Hutch asked. His hand was draped over the back of Starsky’s seat, his fingers resting against Starsky’s slightly sunburned neck.

“I’m glad to be with you,” Starsky said. He moved his right hand to rest on Hutch’s thigh. “I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“That whole posting thing? Maybe you could try it out on me.”

Hutch laughed and covered Starsky’s hand with his. “Maybe I could. My stallion.”

Starsky grinned and pressed the gas pedal to the floor.