In An Ord World

 Story type: Pre-Slash (viewer discretion)  Story rating: PG

This story is based on the end tag in Season One Episode "Texas Longhorn" 

What Kind of Crazy

By Vedette Ciel

"Hey, Starsky. I’m beginning to think that everybody in this town is crazy except you and me."

"Funny, I was beginning to have serious doubts about you."

Another joke. For a minute, Hutch smiled painfully, then looked into Starsky’s face, to penetrate a thought into his soul through his eyes. Suddenly Starsky was forced to take a hard swallow.

Hutch withdrew, and lowered his head, looking into his beer. "Okay, Hemingway," he murmured quietly, placing the stein on the bar, sadly walking towards the johns.

Huggy overheard. "Those doubts…ain’t so funny, are they?"

Starsky winced. "What did I just do?…"

Huggy took Hutch’s unfinished beer, and shook his head in disgust. He slid it over, a startled Starsky grabbing it before it fell off the edge. He looked into it, like a crystal ball.

He lifted his face, "Well?" He looked for what he’d often seen, the seer, the soother. But Huggy was tired tonight, of the one upmanship between these two, knew Starsky’s glee when it came to games, meant he never knew how to quit while he was ahead.

Huggy hardened. "You two just finished a pretty tough case, now didn’t you?"

"Yeah, it was, well, your typical misery, why?"

"Anybody die?"

Starsky frowned, "What kind of stupid question is that?"

"Answer me how many people you met that died."

"One, two, a couple."

"A couple."

Starsky corrected now that he remembered. "Actually, a real couple. First, the wife. Then the husband." He recollected the facts from his written report. "Oh, yeah, and then there was Chaco. Wasn’t sorry to see him go."

Huggy shook his head. "That all?"

"What, you want an official list? Sending flowers or something?"

Huggy moved closer. "You want my help or you just want to spend the night sparring with plastic forks, Toto?"

Starsky drew in his chin. Huggy called him that in the early days, as an indication he was acting like a bratty kid. Starsky began to feel the back of his collar making his neck itchy.

"Also, we did the sailor in. I guess that makes four officially."

Huggy leaned on the bar with one elbow. "And you met Angel. She ain’t exactly fully alive no more."

Starsky felt his stomach turn. He clasped Hutch’s beer again, this time looking for his handprint, his sweat, his essence. "Whadda you saying, Hug?"

"I’m saying that Blondie of yours don’t have your skin. Sounds like its go-go-boom-crash-pow straight through and no time to process, know what I mean?"

Now Starsky’s whole back was itchy. "Yeah, I hear ya. But Blon--Hutch, he can take it. We’re a team."

"Because he’s your complement, not your copy."

Starsky kept his head down. He was starting to feel scolded. I don’t understand what I screwed up.

Huggy reached for his forearm. "You sit here and think about it. I’ll be right back."

Starsky couldn’t help himself. He put his mouth to the stein where Hutch’s had been. He took a long sip, as he pinched his lips together on the rim. He leaned his forehead on the mug and sighed.

-------------

Hutch had walked towards the restrooms, but quickly took a turn through the kitchen. He walked over to the dishwasher and asked for his cigarettes. He went to give him one from the pack, but Hutch presented a five dollar bill and took the entire package. The boy smiled and eagerly took the money, as Hutch made his way out the service door.

In the alley, he leaned against the building behind the dumpster and lit up. Smoking calmed him down sometimes, but it took two or three in a row. He’d never really had the habit, but he’d sometimes imbibe to get the bitter taste of chaos out of his hide. And right now all he wanted was to fill his core with fresh smoke, ‘cause the rotten crud of death was lingering in his lungs.

He finished the first one fast. Better not to get caught out here chaining up. He rubbed his chin and exhaled, hearing his partner’s comeback again. Funny, I was beginning to have serious doubts about you. Doubts. Hutch had to smirk at that.

It was his own fault, he knew Starsky didn’t have a clue. ‘Crazy except you and me.’ The two of them weren’t crazy. The two of them were sapient. The two of them had a purpose, the two of them could deliver. Despite it all, they were still alive, together. The two of them, the two of us. The two of us.

The door opened. Huggy waltzed over to the cloud of tobacco. "Doing okay, my man?"

Hutch smiled, shyly. He offered Huggy a puff. "Yeah, I’m okay."

"He’s pretty miserable, Blondie. Doesn’t understand." Hutch nodded. Huggy avered, "He doesn’t know yet."

Hutch took the last drag, stomping on the butt. Looking into Huggy’s concerned face, he stated, "He’s not ready, Hug, you know that." They exchanged a quiet stare. "I just believe that when the time comes, it’ll all be worth the wait."

Huggy wished he could do more. "You coming back in?"

The door opened again. Huggy walked towards it, patting the shoulder of the other half, waltzing back inside.

Hutch turned and their eyes met, as Starsky swept over to him. Starsky’s eyes were watery. "Hutch…it was a tough case, wasn’t it?"

"Yeah, Buddy…"

"And I’m the crazy one for not noticing it was hard on you."

Hutch didn’t have time to react to the bulldozer of a hug that came at him, except to equal the embrace, and succumb, to his ear being covered with a silvery tear and a muttered "I’m sorry…"

Hutch buried his head in that froth of curls, breathing in.

"Hutch, I don’t know what kind of crazy we are yet, but I know whatever it is, it’s okay. Okay?" Starsky clutched tightly.

Separating just enough to see each other, Starsky answered Hutch’s gaze at the bar. He got it right this time.