Notes: Originally written in my head for the Starsky/Hutch the Original bRomance (slash ship) Twenty Minute Fic Challenge Prompt Words: box and train. Finally, actually written months later.
Starsky and Molly had just come out of Peaches, each carrying a shopping bag. Molly, still a little bit in her rebellion stage, had gotten Iron Maiden, the first album by the band of the same name. She had to explain to Starsky that they were a new British heavy metal band. Starsky didn’t want to admit how old that made him feel; he’d never even heard of Iron Maiden. Starsky picked up something a little more subdued that he knew both he and Hutch would enjoy, Billy Joel’s latest, Glass Houses.
Since first meeting Molly a little over four years ago, Starsky and Hutch had made a point of staying in regular contact with her, or as regularly as their jobs allowed. They’d both felt a little obligated to try to provide her with a father figure. She’d always been comfortable with their relationship, often joking that she was the only girl in school with two dads, neither of which were actually her dad.
As Molly had gotten older, their semi-regular monthly outings had changed. While they still got in a few Dodger games each season, the visits to get ice cream had now been replaced with her insisted trips to the mall, much to Hutch’s chagrin.
“Dave, do we have time to go to Spencer’s before we meet Hutch for lunch?”
Starsky leaned over the third-floor railing, looking down at the agreed upon meeting spot on the second level. “I don’t think so; Hutch is already waiting for us.”
Molly peered over, too. “Man, does he look miserable. You think he’s been sitting there this whole time? Why does he even come if he hates it so much?”
Starsky glanced at Molly, then gazed back at the blond love of his life. “Give him a break, Molls. He does it for you. He knows if he didn’t come with me to see you here, he wouldn’t get to see you. That’s what you do for the people you love.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “God, when did you get so mushy! You sound like Hutch.”
Just then a teenaged boy carrying a giant boombox on his shoulder sat down next to Hutch on the bench. Molly and Starsky could hear the bass thumping from where they stood.
And they could both see Hutch turn and glare at the boy.
“Oh, this is going to be hilarious! Hutch is gonna shit a fuckin’ brick.”
He wasn’t really fazed by her language, but figured he should at least mention it, before they found themselves called in to talk to her principal. “Easy on the language there, kiddo.” He’d not taken his eyes off Hutch, and he could now see the tell-tale signs of agitation—the bouncing knee, the drumming fingers, and the deepening furrow between his brow.
“We better save Spencer’s for after lunch and go rescue him.”
Molly stomped her foot a little and whined, hoping to sway Starsky her way. “Aw, come on Dave. He won’t let us go after lunch. Won’t he just get up and move?”
“I’ve trained him well. He’ll stay there till his death if that’s where I told him to meet us.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth that their unique connection was made; Hutch looked up and immediately met Starsky’s eyes without first looking anywhere else. Starsky grinned as Hutch rolled his eyes, with a nod to his left. This was followed by a slight chin raise. Starsky answered him with a slight head nod of his own.
“Come on, short stuff. We’re meeting him up at Sbarro’s.” Starsky turned and started towards the escalator just as Hutch stood up and did the same.
Molly stood for a moment with her mouth open, before catching up with Starsky. “You got all that from a head nod. You two are weird.”
Starsky grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently before letting go. “Molly, never forget. Hutch is weird. I’m cool.”
