The Pressure’s Starting to Get to Him

Starsky and Hutch make a bet on the results of their annual physicals.

When Hutch arrived outside the doctor’s office, he wasn’t surprised to see Starsky was already there.

“Had your results yet?” Hutch asked as he took a seat beside his partner.

“Nope, still waiting.” Starsky put down the gossip magazine he’d been pretending to read. “What are we betting on this year?”

It had become a tradition the past few years that when it came to hearing the results of their annual physicals, they’d place a bet on one particular test. Who ever got the best result got to take control that night in the bedroom. It made the whole boring and uncomfortable process a little more interesting.

“Well, what was it last year?” Hutch asked. “Blood sugar levels I believe. Which I won.”

“Only because I had a donut for breakfast.”

Hutch just rolled his eyes at Starsky’s logic. “The year before that it was cholesterol levels which I believe I also won.”

“True, but the year before that it was heart rate, which I won,” Starsky said, smugly.

“Just, only just.”

“So, what about blood pressure?” Starsky suggested. “Whoever’s is closest to normal.”

Hutch gave a snort of laughter. “That’s an easy win for me. I’m clearly the most calm and controlled out of the two of us.”

It was Starsky’s turn to roll his eyes. “Just because you’ve started meditating doesn’t make you the Deli Lama.”

“It’s Dalai Lama, Starsk and we’ll just see what the results say.”

They didn’t have to wait much longer. A middled aged doctor in a lab coat and glasses opened the office door and gestured for Starsky to enter the room.

While Hutch waited he thought about all the things he could get Starsky to do for him and to him. He wondered if he still had the cock ring Starsky had bought him for Christmas. They still had some whipped cream left too.

Hutch was pulled out of his depraved thoughts just ten minutes later when Starsky returned from the doctor’s office.

“Apart from the usual advice to start eating better, I’m as healthy as my car after a tune up.”

“And your blood pressure?”

“90/70. Perfectly normal.”

“Not perfect enough,” Hutch said as he got up from his chair to follow the doctor into her office.

Starsky took Hutch’s seat and wondered if he had time to pop down to the candy machine on the next floor. He’d not had a snack in nearly two hours and the that particular machine was usually well stocked. However, it was next to the coffee machine that also mixed up the drinks, so if he wanted a drink he’d have to go to the next level down.

In the time it took for him to decide that he would wait for Hutch to come out first, his partner emerged from the office, looking not too pleased.

“So?” Starsky asked, expectantly.

“125/80 which I’m told is slightly elevated.”

Starsky beamed, but before he could bask in his victory Hutch continued, very clearly angry.

“They have some nerve to say that, I mean how accurate can your blood pressure be from day to day, huh? Maybe I’d been for a run just before the appointment or I took the stairs instead of the elevator. It’s all subjective.” Hutch’s voice was starting rise with each sentence.

“What do they think I am, some hot head?” He pointed angrily at Starsky. “I meditate, I do gardening, I eat properly, how does that all lead to high blood pressure?!”

Starsky calmly watched his partner rant with a little smile on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Hey Hutch?”

“What?” Hutch snapped.

“Don’t forget to bring your handcuffs tonight?” Starsky winked.