The Office

The boys loved to mess with Babcock. In all sorts of ways. He was a good cop, a good colleague, a good friend and an all around good guy but boy, was he easy to tease! He was good natured too so he took all their ribbing the way it was meant to be taken: friendly and loving.

And they did love him. Babcock was one of the people who was extremely supportive of their relationship when they had come out as a couple and he was truly happy for them. He had fondly nicknamed them Bisexual Disasters and every day he asked them which one of them carried the one brain cell they shared between them for that particular day.

(Dobey was extremely entertained by that but kept insisting they shared two brain cells… on a good day!)

The joking was never harsh or cruel. The camaraderie was always palpable and so was the devilish fun they had watching dear Babcock losing his cool, squirm, splutter and/or turn beet red when they casually dropped sexual innuendos or shared supposedly intimate details loudly.

The latest chapter in “see how many different shades of red Babcock’s face can do today” came courtesy of Starsky having a sudden inspiration while surfing the internet on his laptop and coming across an article about eggs.

Sure in Hutch’s ability to catch on and come up with something suitably witty and embarrassing, he lightly kicked Hutch’s foot to get his attention. When Hutch looked at him arching a questioning eyebrow, Starsky imperceptibly motioned towards Babcock who was getting ready to enjoy his first cup of coffee. Hutch’s smile could have eclipsed the sun.

“Did you know the inside of your butt is hot enough to hard-boil an egg?” Starsky asked loudly and seriously.

“Oh no, I’m not falling for that one again!” Hutch replied in a tone suggesting he had been there, done that and wasn’t a fan.

There was a choking sound, a sputtering, coffee sloshing over the side of a mug and hitting the surface of a desk with a soft plop and Babcock squeaking, “W h a t !?!”

“That business with the egg? Yeah, total Starsky bullshit!” Hutch went on conversationally as if Babcock had just asked about a recipe. “Doesn’t cook for shit!”

Starsky tried his hardest to keep a poker face but Hutch’s improvisation and Babcock’s flabbergasted look, red face and comically bulging eyes as he stared at Hutch, made him completely lose it. He howled with laughter so much that he actually fell off his chair. Hutch was wiping tears from his eyes and slapping his thigh.

Babcock started laughing too, realizing that, once again, he had fallen for it. “You little shits! Every single time!! How is it you get me with your ridiculous bullshit every. Single. Time!”

“You love it! And you love us,” Starsky said getting up from where he was sitting on the floor having composed himself at last.

Hutch took Babcock’s forgotten mug from his hand, placed it on the desk and draped an arm over his shoulders. “And we love you. And you know it.” He grinned happily.

“That I do. And even though I can’t match your crap, I can come up with inspiring names for the both of you nonetheless. Isn’t that right, Trash Panda?” Babcock looked at Starsky with a glint in his eye.

“Trash Panda!?” Starsky and Hutch simultaneously guffawed.

“You’re always eating all kinds of trash, aren’t you?”

Hutch was wheezing. “Oh, that is so sticking from now on!”

Starsky huffed in faux indignation. “Preposterous! I am being oppressed, suppressed, repressed and compressed!”

“I remain unimpressed! And if you don’t finish your reports on time, I’ll make sure you’re all depressed!” Dobey’s voice boomed, startling them.

He had the uncanny ability to materialize out of nowhere and somehow he knew everything that was going on. When Hutch had mention that to him once, Dobey had replied that he was the God of the precinct so of course he knew everything.

“Yes, Cap! You don’t have to worry!” Starsky cheerfully offered.

“Your reports always worry me, I never know what I’m going to get. Make sure it reads professional, if I want to read a comic book I’ll buy one from the store. Hutchinson, you’re in charge of Trash Panda!” Dobey said straight faced and turned towards his office but not before showing them the gleefully amused smirk that had begun to quirk his lips.

There was a long moment of complete and utter silence before Babcock and Hutch erupted in laughter while Starsky stood shell-shocked, watching their Captain’s back disappear into his office.

“REPORTS!!!” came the voice of God before the door closed along with something that sounded suspiciously like a loud snort of laughter.

Babcock slapped Starsky affectionately on the back and ruffled his hair. “Oh, the sweet taste of revenge!” He sing-songed and sat at his desk.

Hutch put his arm around Starsky’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Come on, my sweet Trash Panda. I have to make sure you type something that actually looks like it was produced by a decorated detective. And after we go home, I can show you how trashy I can be myself where it counts and how good being trashy feels!”

Starsky’s eyes lit up. An impish look took over his features. “Can we make this into a role play thing?”

“Oh we can make it into anything you want, darling. The possibilities are endless!” Hutch’s gaze was absolutely smoldering.

Starsky clapped his hands animatedly and shouted, “Why are we wasting time, people!? Come on, we have a job to do! Typing waits for no one! Get these reports ready for our Captain! Get those fingers moving!!”

All in all, it was just another Tuesday at the office!