Bullseye

“I really don’t think I should touch it.”

“Look, you put it in there, you can pull it out.”

“It’ll hurt.”

“Don’t you think I know that? It hurt when you put it in. Just take the damn thing out!”

Hutch sighed deeply. “We probably should go to the emergency room and have them take it out.”

“It’ll probably fall out before we get there.” Starsky squirmed on the couch. “Get the first aid kit and take it out, please.”

Admitting defeat, Hutch went in to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, leaving his partner slumped over the arm of the sofa with a dart embedded in his lower back.

The evening had started off with some beers and a lot of drunken laughter. They’d been watching a darts championship on the TV when Starsky had the idea to challenge Hutch to a game. Ordinarily they would have to go to Huggy’s to play, but he sold his dart board to Hutch after it was clear patrons were more interested in playing pool. Unfortunately, not only had Hutch bought the board, but Huggy’s doctored darts, the ones that had a mind of their own. Hutch had forgotten this and while taking his first shot, the arrow flew past the board in to Starsky’s turned back, who was getting a beer out of the fridge. Starsky had nearly yanked the thing out himself on reflex before Hutch had stopped him.

Hutch came back into the room with the first aid kit and took out a piece of gauze and some antiseptic.

“Are you really sure about this?” Hutch asked, taking hold of the dart.

“If it had hit anything vital I’d know. Now stop talking about it and take it out!”

Hutch took a deep breath and with one firm yank, pulled the dart out. Starsky let out a quick gasp and then hissed when he felt the antiseptic soaked gauze being placed over the wound. “Is it bleeding much?”

“A little. I don’t think it needs stitching, but I’ll need to press on it for a bit.” Keeping his hand firmly pressed against the wound, Hutch leaned his chin on Starsky’s shoulder.

“Sorry for impaling you.”

Starsky smiled. “You can kiss it better if you like.”

Hutch kissed the area around the gauze, cringing as his lips tasted the antiseptic. He rested his chin back on Starsky’s shoulder, speaking right into his ear. “How about I make it up to you once it’s healed. Give you a far more pleasurable stab from behind.”

Starsky chuckled. “Bullseye.”