Sweet As Summer

Hutch takes Starsky out of the hospital for a respite.

A 20 minute challenge fic issued by Dawnwind.

“C’mon,” Hutch said as he pushed a wheelchair into Starsky’s hospital room.

“Huh?” Starsky looked at him from the chair by the window. He was getting damn sick of the view—all that activity outside and him stuck inside.

“I’m kidnapping you for a few hours.” Hutch smiled—a smile that Starsky noticed was becoming more frequent the further they got away from the fifteenth of May.

Despite wanting desperately to get outside the four walls of the room, the hallways, and the therapy rooms, Starsky felt a quiver of fear.

“Don’t worry,” Hutch said as he put a hand to help support Starsky as he stood. “It’s all cleared with the doctors and the therapists. It’s only for a few hours.”

Starsky sat in the wheelchair and couldn’t help the smile he felt forming in answer to Hutch’s radiant one. “Where are we going?”

“Just trust me,” Hutch said.

They got in Hutch’s car—a new one—one that actually had great suspension and no dings or dents and air conditioning. Starsky couldn’t remember Hutch ever mentioning it before.

He looked out the window at the passing scenery. So much life outside, so many people who were walking around and never knowing just how good life was.

“Venice Beach?”

“It’s summer, it’s a beautiful day, and there are plenty sights to take in.”

Starsky pulled himself straighter as they went slowly along the boardwalk. There were so many sounds—sounds other than beeping monitors and announcements for doctors and nurses saying how are we feeling today and therapists saying just one more time and you can do it. There were people laughing and the crash of waves and children crying because they weren’t getting their own way and buskers playing guitars and singing.

And the smells—not the antiseptic smells of medicine and the smell of sickness and decay and even death. No, there were smells of ocean and hot dogs and french fries and Coppertone and sweat and when Hutch leaned close to ask a question, the smell of him—clean and citrus-y and familiar.

There was the smell of cotton candy and Starsky remembered going to Coney Island with his dad and getting a cone of it and his dad and him sharing it and laughing at each other’s blue dyed teeth. He felt tears come to his eyes, emotions one thing that seemed to always be far closer to the surface than ever before.

“Starsk?” Hutch crouched in front of him, his blue eyes wide with concern, that little line between his brows pronounced. “You okay?”

“Cotton candy,” Starsky managed to get out before he totally embarrassed himself by becoming a sniveling mess.

“You want cotton candy?” Hutch asked and without another word, he walked away and came back with a cone—pink, not blue.

“It’s pure sugar,” Hutch said as he handed him the cone but for once there wasn’t the slightest sound of disapproval.

Starsky tore off a piece, put it in his mouth, and let it dissolve. He felt a smile form, chasing away the tears. It tasted like summer and goodness and life and what he imagined Hutch’s kiss would.

“Here.” He held it out towards Hutch. When Hutch hesitated, he looked at him closely. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had cotton candy?”

“Okay I won’t. Even if I never did,”

“Live a little,” Starsky said and he grinned as Hutch pulled off a small bit and tasted it.

“It’s…”

“Good, right? It’s good.”

“Delicious.” Hutch leaned in to get another piece and when he did, Starsky put up a hand and pulled him in for a stolen kiss.

He was right—Hutch’s kisses were sweet as cotton candy.