Choosing a Name for the Baby

Starsky wants to name their baby.

“Hey, Hutch,” Starsky called out while finishing up their long due reports.

“Mmm,” Hutch said, not looking up from his work. He was seated opposite Starsky.

“If we got married and had a son, what would you like to name him?”

“Come again?” Hutch asked, wondering whether something was seriously wrong with his hearing.

“If the two of us had a child, what would you like to name him?”

No. Hutch had not heard wrong. “Are you thinking of getting a sex change or something that I should know about, Starsk?”

“No. No. Jeez, Hutch. Why would I do that? A sex change? Not even in your dreams.” Starsky shook his head in disbelief. “You’re weird, you know that?”

Hutch raised his eyebrows. “Do you really want to know?”

“So, tell me, what would you like to name our son?” Starsky asked, ignoring Hutch’s glares.

“Starsky, we are not getting married,” Hutch said firmly. “So stop wasting your time, and mine, on questions that don’t need answers.”

“Oh, come on, Hutch. Just think, just assume– come on.” Starsky set his pen aside, folded his hands on the table and leaned over them. Obviously, he was determined to take the conversation all the way through.

Hutch sighed. “I don’t want to assume anything. Especially when I know it’s not something that’s going to happen.”

“Now, come on.” Starsky nudged Hutch on his arm. “It is a very simple question. You don’t need any brain storming.”

“Anything that you’d like to call him is fine by me,” said Hutch, knowing that the sooner he answered Starsky, the better, because Starsky wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.

“Really? You’d allow me to choose?” Starsky looked surprised and pleased. He continued, “I was thinking, maybe we can make a name out of both of ours. I mean, it’s not fair to name him a Starsky or a Hutchinson. You know, when he is from both of us. I mean… it’s not like we’d be his mother and father. We’d be more like err… father and father. So I think we should call him Kenneth David Hutchsky or Kenneth David Stutchinson… or Starsson– No that’s not good, kids will start to call him Tarzan because Starsson sounds like Tarzan, don’t you think?”

“Uh-huh.” Hutch wasn’t listening to Starsky anymore.

“So, which one would you like better? Hutchsky or Stutchinson?”

“Give me a break, will you?” Hutch snapped. “Just choose whatever you want.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes. YES!”

“You don’t care about him, do you?” Starsky asked disappointedly.

“Starsky.” Hutch inhaled deeply. “You and I do not have any kids. So how am I supposed to care about this kid we don’t have?”

“But, Hutch. We assumed.”

“Oh, no,” Hutch said waving his finger. “You assumed. I didn’t.”

Starsky leaned back in the chair. “You don’t love me anymore,” he said, his smile disappearing completely.

“Oh, Jeez,” Hutch groaned. “Will you stop that?”

“You don’t love me, and you don’t care about me anymore,” Starsky pouted.

Just when Hutch thought his partner couldn’t come up with any silly questions, Starsky surprised him all over; getting married, having children, naming the children, and now, he’s blaming me for not loving him and the kids. Hutch couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey,” Hutch said softly, reaching for his partner.

“Don’t talk to me.” Starsky turned away. “Don’t touch me. You don’t care about me or our kids.”

“Hey,” Hutch leaned forward. “If we ever get married, and if we ever have a kid, he would always be a Starsky.”

“Really?” Starsky looked genuinely happy. “You would call him that? You would call him Kenneth David Starsky?” He had his thousand watt smile planted on his face.

“Sure. Happy now?”

“So… will you marry me if I got a sex change?”

Hutch rolled his eyes. There he goes again. The reports will never be done at this rate. “No. Never. Especially not if you get a sex change.”

“Oh,” Starsky’s eyes widened. “So… you mean you prefer marrying me as a man than I being a woman?”

“I said I don’t want you to change into a woman. Has nothing to do with marriage.”

“So, If I asked you to marry me, now, like this, as a man– would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Then how could we have a kid and name him Kenneth David Starsky? I am not going to bring a child into this world out of wedlock.”

“All right, already. I’ll marry you, and have dozens of little Starskys with you. Will you please shut up, now?” Hutch yelled.

“Shhh, Keep it down, will ya?” Starsky said looking around the squad room. “People are starting to notice. Don’t make our kids be ashamed of their parents, Hutch.”

“Not another word, Starsky.” Hutch raised his finger threateningly.

Starsky was quiet for a moment–just for a moment.

“Hutch?”

“Now what?”

“What if it’s a girl? We cannot call her Kenneth or David now, could we?”