Sweet Revenge Drabbles

Various SR drabbles and double drabbles.

Some originally written for Me and Thee challenges.

Shield

Feeling the tears burn behind his eyes, Hutch rested them on the heels of his palms.

Cursing the bright hospital lights, he just wished for a dark corner to fall apart in.

The one person who could hold him steady, quell the stream of tears, stop him from sinking forever into despair, keep the pain from swallowing him whole, was the one person who could not be with him.

A nurse approached with a bag. Starsky’s things: gun, holster, wallet… and, Oh God, his badge.

His badge.

It was what Starsky lived for.

And now…. the reason he was dying.

Tight

Often Huggy’s sources have had a thing or two to say about “those two cops.” Pits patrons sometimes remarked that they were always together. Huggy just shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and nodded in agreement. “They’re ‘tight’,” he’d reply. “What can I say?”

Word on the street was crossing one partner earned the wrath of the other. Huggy had seen it and knew it to be true.

After so many years of friendship, Huggy was used to dealing with the desperate, dark, and dangerous man one became when the other was threatened, hurt, or missing.

That’s the man Huggy expected to find at Memorial. When he approached the ICU window he did so carefully, anticipating the usual whirlwind of panic and rage he’d witnessed so many times before. What he found instead was far more frightening.

Despondent and quiet, Hutch was giving in, giving up, and for the first time, without hope.

So Huggy offered hope. “He’s gonna be okay,” he said. But Hutch refused the offering and Huggy knew why.

Hutch could feel Starsky was dying.

Huggy understood his friends were linked soul deep with a love so strong and true that “tight” did not even begin to cover it.

Mother’s Day SR Drabble

Hutch called.

That’s how we found out.

He asked for Ma.

I told him Ma was at work and why the hell didn’t he know that and what’d he want anyway and where was David?

Actually, I was talking all tough because I understood. Really only a couple a reasons Hutch would call. I could tell by his voice which one this was.

Figured if I pissed him off he’d hang up. I didn’t wanna know, ya know? He told me anyway.

Why David? Why now?

David just called two days ago– Mother’s Day.

Everything was fine. Ma was happy.

(In 1979 Mother’s Day was the 13th and SR was the 15th)

Payphone

Hutch slowly rose a shaking hand to drop a dime in the slot. He listened to the clink, clink as it fell into its appointed chamber and a dial tone began to hum. The stench of stale coffee, sweat, and fear permeating the receiver did nothing to slow the tide of bile rising in his stomach as he dialed.

He dreaded this call and put it off as long as possible. Starsky was out of surgery now, though. The doctors talked of massive damage and little hope.

Hutch held back his tears as a woman answered.

“Mrs. Starsky, it’s Hutch….”

Habit

He has this habit of eating the worst foods.

He has this habit of mispronouncing words.

And a habit of driving much too fast.

All of which, I actually think he does just to annoy me.

But he is Starsky.

And you know what? I want him to wake up, eat junk, mispronounce everything and drive fast.

I want him here, whole, and strong.

I swear to God I will never again be annoyed by any of it.

Because there’s no one on earth I need more.

There’s no one I love more.

Please make it, Starsk, habits and all.

Breakfast

Oversleeping and running late, Hutch curses the man responsible.

Last night was one of those all too frequent nights when the overwhelming desire to wipe out all things Gunther left Hutch tangled in paperwork long past midnight.

Quickly maneuvering the familiar maze of elevators and hallways, Hutch enters Starsky’s hospital room.

“Buddy, I’m so sorry,” he says.

As expected, Starsky beams at the breakfast Hutch brings.

Bright eyes and a crooked smile threaten to melt Hutch where he stands. Massive damage, yes. But not to his childlike ability to allow things like donuts to make up for being two hours late.

Dressed for Success

“How do I look, Hutch, huh?” Starsky simultaneously asked while spinning a 360 in the middle of his living room.

“You look great, Starsk. You really do.”

And Hutch meant it, too.

For the first time in a long time Starsky wore that full-throttle, light up his whole face, full of eagerness and anticipation smile and a confident stance and strut.

Hutch almost forgot to breathe.

His partner was absolutely, finally back.

Starsky was, at that moment, the most beautiful thing Hutch had ever seen. And it had little to do with the new suit he’d bought for reinstatement.