A Normal Itch

Note: Originally posted on AO3 under the name ugerchucker.

Starsky had an itch.

It had been bugging him for the last hour. This horrible, irritating little itch in-between his shoulder blades. He knew it shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, especially considering there was barely a spot on his body that didn’t hurt in some way, curtsy of three bullets in the back and multiple internal damage. It hurt to breath, move and some times even blink. But today, none of those pains mattered, they took a back seat to this niggling little itch that he couldn’t do anything about.

Starsky had to be careful how he tackled the irritating bit of skin, as it was positioned amongst a minefield of healing wounds. He tried moving from side to side in hopes of using the scratchy bedsheets, but the action rubbed harshly against the bullet holes and he had to stop. He was unable to reach his arm around to the spot and he had no back scratcher. He thought about calling a nurse to help him, but they had enough to do without being bothered by such a small thing. Except this small thing was on the brink of driving him mad.

Unable to bring any relief by his own means, Starsky tried to ignore it by distracting himself. First he tried watching the TV, but there was nothing much on. A game show he couldn’t understand the rules too and a movie far too melodramatic for Starsky to handle. He tried reading a magazine, but the only ones he had he’d already read. He needed to ask Hutch to bring him some new ones. There was nothing in the room to distract his attention, just a shelf full of cards and a bunch of flowers on the bedside table, freshly picked by Minnie.

Just as he was resigning to the idea of calling a nurse, Hutch walked through the door. Visiting hours at last!

Hutch noticed as he walked in that there was something wrong with his partner. The pinched look and the way squirmed made him instantly worried.

“Hey, buddy, are you okay?” he asked, rushing to his side. “What’s wrong?”

Starsky looked sheepish. “I have an itch.”

Hutch stared at him for a moment. “Seriously? Is that it?”

“That’s enough. It’s been driving me crazy.”

Hutch smiled. “Okay, where is it?”

“Between my shoulder blades.”

Without a word, Hutch helped Starsky roll on to his side. Tentatively, Hutch scratched a spot right on the spine, being careful not to touch the bandages covering the wounds. “Here?”

“A little further down.”

Hutch scratched his way down Starsky’s back until he hit the right spot.

“Bullseye.” Starsky actually sighed with relief. It felt so satisfying and even a little pleasurable. However, the relief and satisfaction he felt at finally being rid of the annoying itch faded fast. Now it was gone the pain from his healing body made itself loudly known. It’s then he realised he quite missed having an itch, because it had felt normal. It was a normal thing to have an irritating itch you couldn’t scratch. It wasn’t normal to have three bullets rip your innards to shreds. It wasn’t normal to wake up every day struggling to breathe. He missed feeling normal.

Hutch turned him on his back and the two looked looked at each other. “Better?”

Staring into his lovers eyes he realised there was another itch he had. One he knew would give him satisfaction after scratching. He pulled Hutch down by the front of his t-shirt and kissed him. A proper, deep kiss, the kind they hadn’t shared since the day of the shooting. When they broke apart, Starsky was left breathless, but he didn’t care. It had felt normal and definitely scratched an itch.

For now.