Sticking It To The Man

Beulah Mae, Starsky’s favorite evening shift nurse, pressed her brown fingers against the pale flesh on the inside of his forearm, palpating gently. “Lord, sugah.” She sighed, tapping around one of the larger bruises, assessing each vein for viability.

After one month in the hospital, Starsky knew exactly what she needed: a vessel that hadn’t been stuck so many times that the IV needle wouldn’t penetrate the scar tissue any longer. His arms, occasionally his arm pits, and one time, the side of his foot, had all been used as IV sites. Each time he needed antibiotics or a blood transfusion, there was a struggle to find an unbruised location.

“You’ve been worked ovah, haven’t you?” Her southern accent was like sweet molasses, soothing to the nerves. “You’re a hard stick.”

Starsky required another round of antibiotics to fight off the persistent bacteria in his lungs that tenaciously threatened pneumonia. Beulah Mae was not the first nurse to malign his apparently narrow, deep veins. He glanced over at his partner, envying the bluish highway running under the skin of Hutch’s left arm. By this time, he’d watched the other nurses’ techniques so often, he could have stuck that easily.

“What about Clarita?” Hutch suggested, frowning, the latest National Geographic falling off his lap. “She slid one in easy as slicing butter on Monday.”

“On maternity leave, unless you missed the tell-tale signs of her immanent motherhood.” Beulah Mae chuckled, standing with one hand braced on her lower spice for support. “I do believe Toni is on the floor. Used to work pediatrics, could thread a needle into a strand of hair.” She walked out with a determined glint in her eye.

“What did your blood culture show?” Hutch asked, finger walking down Starsky’s left forearm, but not at all as Beulah had done.

Starsky shivered playfully as Hutch stroked the soft skin on his wrist, remembering when Hutch used to kiss him there, then imitate Gomez Addams romancing his wife Morticia by peppering kisses to his shoulder. “Uh—kinda hard to answer when you are doing that.” His mouth was dry and he had better pull the sheet up over his swelling cock or Toni was going to get an eyeful. “Doctor said he would strike first, without waiting th-three days for the cult…” He trailed off, breathing fast.

Hutch flicked his eyes up, checking the door and leaned in, twining his fingers through Starsky’s to kiss his mouth, hard and fast.

Breathing in the sweet air from Hutch’s mouth, Starsky nodded, storing the love Hutch had bestowed for the next time they were alone.

When Toni arrived with her tray of IV supplies, Hutch’s cheeks pinked rosy bright and he ducked over the yellow bordered magazine.

Starsky laughed so hard he barely felt the sharp puncture into the top of his right hand.

FIN