Comfort

Hutch takes care of Starsky after his partner suffers from a bout of food poisoning.

Written for the twenty-minute fic challenge where the prompt words were “toast” and “drink.” Probably everyone else wrote something related to New Year’s Eve, but my brain came up with this.

“How am I supposed to eat this toast? It’s dry as a piece of matzoh in the desert!” Starsky dropped the toast back on the plate and fiddled with the pillows behind him, evidently trying to get comfortable.

Hutch watched him warily, surmising his partner’s new position must not have satisfied him because he kept fidgeting as he sat up against the headboard trying to get comfortable.

“Starsk, need I remind you that your stomach is still recovering from that nasty bug you had? Didn’t I tell you not to eat at that taco place that the health department cited?”

“Yeah, but their tacos were terrific. It was probably the undercooked burrito that did me in. I would kill for a taco right now.”

“Well, that burrito almost killed you. And for the next day or two, you have to eat bland food or you’ll irritate the lining further. You know that.” Hutch leaned over and adjusted Starsky’s pillows. “That better?”

“Much. Thanks. Hey, since when did you become such an expert on all things stomach-related?”

“The nurse gave me instructions. She said only dry toast, crackers, eggs and plain white rice. Sorry, partner.”

“That toast made me thirsty. Can you bring me somethin’ to drink?”

“There’s a glass of water next to you on the nightstand. And I’ve got the teapot going. It should be boiling soon.”

“You making me tea?”

“Yeah. With ginger and honey.”

“Hutch, you know I don’t like tea unless it’s iced.”

“Hot tea is good for your digestive system. You’ll drink it.”

Hutch kissed his partner on the forehead, frowning at how clammy and cool it felt, and wagged a threatening finger. “Next time, steer clear of food establishments where the health inspector got sick.” He thought he heard Starsky mumble a frustrated okay. “And don’t get too comfortable in that bed.” The finger wagged again. “When you’re done eating, I’m gonna give you a nice, warm bath.”

“I’m not an invalid, ya know. I think I can give myself a bath, Hutch.”

“Of course you can. But I want to do it. Besides, what if I left you alone in there and you drowned or something? I’d never be able to live with myself.”

Starsky smiled for the first time that day.

-Fin-