Day 4: Here’s What Happened Last Night by Starskinson

“Hey Starsk, ya wanna come back to my place tonight?”

“It depends on what time we get done here.” Starsky stared miserably at the stack of paperwork needing to be filed on his desk.

“I’m sure it won’t be too late. I’ll help you once I finish typing these two reports.” Hutch leaned towards his partner and whispered, “Besides, I miss waking up next to you in my bed.”

Hutch’s waggling eyebrows made Starsky chuckle. “Okay, but what are we gonna do for dinner?”

“I have a can of soup I can heat up.”

“Just as long as it’s not the one you got botulism from,” Starsky said, grimacing at the memory of what he and Hutch had gone through.

“No. No more canned clam chowder for me. It’s tomato.”

“We’re gonna need more than that. Can you make us grilled cheese sandwiches to go with it?” Starsky asked with hopeful glee.

“Sure. I think I have cheese. I’ll drive us to my place, and we’ll leave your car at the precinct.”

When they arrived at Venice Place, Hutch went to the fridge and discovered that he didn’t have any cheese. He called back to Starsky, who was reclining comfortably on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, watching TV.

“Starsk, how important is it to have grilled cheese with the soup?”

Without taking his eyes off the TV screen, Starsky responded, “Very. Why?”

“Cause I don’t have any cheese. I’m gonna have to go out and get some.”

“Okay.”

Hutch observed his lounging partner with his eyes glued to some TV show. “Can you at least start the soup? It shouldn’t take me too long to get back.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Starsky! Did you hear what I said?”

Starsky finally put his eyes on Hutch’s face. “Yeah. Put the soup on.”

“Good. I’ll be right back.”

Before he forgot, Starsky reluctantly left the couch and strode into the kitchen. After searching through cabinets, he finally found a can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup. He placed it on the counter and looked around for an electric can-opener. Since Starsky was left-handed, he was never able to use a hand-held one, which was made for right-handed people. And wouldn’t you know it? That’s exactly what his partner had. When he pulled open a drawer, there the vile thing was, staring up at him. He took it out and scowled.

Maybe this time you won’t get the best of me.

He proceeded to try and attach it to the lid of the can, first using his left hand, then his right. He tried over and over again until he became fed up, angrily throwing it into the sink. Then he turned and leaned his butt against the sink, holding up the unopened can. He needed something sharp to pierce the aluminum, so he grabbed a knife and stabbed at the lid. After numerous attempts, Starsky realized he needed more force.

Now, where does Hutch keep his hammer?

Starsky started pulling open drawers, hoping that, like a lot of people, Hutch had a utility drawer in his kitchen. Once he found it, he took out a small hammer that he thought should do nicely. He stood the knife upright on top of the can and positioned the hammer at the handle. After many futile attempts at missing the mark, Starsky decided to give it one more try. Raising it high, he brought it down, missing the target once again, but, unfortunately, not his thumb.

He began to curse and jump around, sucking on the sore digit. After running it under cold water, Starsky leaned back against the sink and stared down at his nemesis. He had to figure out a way to get this thing open before Hutch came back. If he didn’t, Starsky would never hear the end of him saying how he should try to be right-handed, like most of the world. But when he couldn’t come up with anything, Starsky dropped heavily on a kitchen chair, feeling defeated by a little can of soup.

Just then, Hutch appeared and immediately noticed his partner staring forlornly at the unopened can.

Smirking, Hutch stated sarcastically, “Don’t tell me. Ya couldn’t get it open.”

Starsky glowered at his partner. “You knew damn well I wouldn’t be able to. Ya never bought an electric can opener, like I asked you to.”

“I guess I forgot.” Hutch shrugged. “Besides,” he continued, placing the cheese on the counter and taking a loaf of bread from the bread box.

Here it comes.

“You need to learn how to use your right hand. I keep tellin’ ya, it’ll make your life a whole lot easier.”

Starsky watched as Hutch easily opened the can with the hand-held opener and poured its contents into a sauce pan.

“Well, it’s not a problem unless someone who’s supposed to be your best friend and claims to love you decides not to get something that would make your life easier,” Starsky stated, stealing a slice of American cheese from the pile and stuffing it into his mouth.

“Why don’t you go back to your TV program and let me take care of dinner?” Hutch suggested, with a wry smile.

“Fine with me.” Starsky happily went back to the couch and focused his attention on the program.

After dinner, the partners sat on the couch, with Starsky’s head resting on Hutch’s lap and Hutch absentmindedly caressing his curls. The brunet looked up at his lover and saw the crease between his eyes that told him that something was bothering him.

“What’s the matter, babe?”

Hutch glanced down at him. “It’s you and this whole left-handed thing.”

“What about it?”

“Starsk, it’s not natural. Everything is made for right-handed people.”

“Don’t I know it. And why isn’t it natural? It’s natural for me.”

“If I stopped you from using your left hand, how much do you think you’d be able to do?”

“I bet I could do plenty. Wanna find out?” Starsky sat up next to Hutch with a glint in his eye, ready for a challenge.

“Sure.” Hutch got his cuffs and told Starsky to stand near one of his kitchen chairs. He locked one around Starsky’s left wrist and attached the other to one of the bars of the wooden chair. “Now, we have to decide on what you’ll do.”

“How about doin’ something that we’d planned on doin’ tonight?” Starsky suggested with a broad grin.

“And what might that be?” Hutch inquired, giving him a knowing smile.

“I make that big dick of yours hard with my right hand, then you shove it between my well-toned cheeks.”

After thinking about it, Hutch said, “That sounds good, but I have a better idea. How ’bout you make yourself hard, then fuck me?”

Hutch saw a look of uncertainty wash over his lover’s face as he glanced at his right hand. “What? You’ve never masturbated with your right hand?”

“Why would I? Have you done it with your left?” Starsky asked indignantly.

“Can’t say that I have. So, you don’t think you can?” Hutch smirked.

“I didn’t say that. It won’t be a problem.” Starsky was having some difficulty shoving his jeans down, so Hutch stepped forward to assist but was pushed away.

“I don’t need your help. I can do it.”

Hutch backed away and watched his partner toe off his sneakers, then struggled to remove his tight jeans and even tighter briefs with one hand. And to make matters worse, Hutch kept glancing at the wall clock, looking annoyed.

Finally, Starsky stood naked from the waist down, with his jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles, grinning triumphantly.

“Took ya long enough,” Hutch stated, making sure his partner heard the annoyance.

“Well, I only had one hand. And it didn’t matter which hand I used. It would have been hard with either one,” Starsky informed resolutely.

“Fine. Now, let’s get on with it. I don’t want to be here all night.”

After glaring at the blond, Starsky sat on the chair he was cuffed to and spread his thighs wide. He began to stroke himself with his non-dominant hand. Right away, it felt strange. It was almost like someone else was jerking him off. Even the feel of his member felt odd in this hand.

It seemed like this might take a while, so Hutch pulled out the other chair and sat down with his elbow on the table and his chin resting in his palm.

Starsky saw the look of boredom on his partner’s face. “Ya know, this would be a whole lot easier if I had some kinda lube.”

“How about olive oil?” Hutch offered, getting the bottle from his kitchen counter.

Starsky stretched out his hand, and Hutch poured a little into his palm. Then the brunet began to stroke himself in earnest.

As he watched, Hutch couldn’t help but notice how awkward and uncomfortable his lover looked. And after witnessing him struggle for close to fifteen minutes, Hutch said, “Starsk, just forget it.”

“No, Hutch. I can do it. It just feels weird, but I can do it.”

“And how long do you think it’s gonna take? It’s never taken this long with your left hand.”

“Like I said, I’m not used to using this hand. Plus, you’re rushing me. It’s hard for this to happen under pressure, ya know?”

It was becoming more and more uncomfortable to sit and watch his lover work to get himself hard. He wished he could have seen it as arousing, but he just felt bad for him.

“Jesus Starsk. You’re rubbing yourself raw. Why don’t you just stop and use your left hand? Lemme take off the cuff.”

“Hutch, I said no.”

Hutch blew out his breath and continued to observe his exasperating partner. After another five minutes, he had had enough and got up to stand in front of Starsky.

“Look, Starsk. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Hutch don’t. I’m almost there,” he said, still feverishly working his penis, then switching to awkwardly roll his balls.

“Well, how about you wake me up when it happens, and we can go on from there?”

Starsky didn’t respond. He was too focused on the task at hand. Hutch shook his head and went into the bedroom.

Sometime during the night, Hutch awoke to find he was alone in bed.

Christ, I hope he’s still not at it.

When Hutch padded out to the living room, he saw the brunet slumped in the chair. He was still cuffed and naked from the waist down, with his right hand lying limply on his thigh. Hutch figured Starsky must have fallen asleep while he was still trying to get erect. He decided not to wake him, but they’d definitely talk about this in the morning.

It was time to get up when Hutch awoke again. He made his way to the living room, expecting to see his stubborn partner still asleep in the chair, but he was gone. Then he heard movement coming from the bathroom, and Starsky exited with a sheepish grin.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. I see you escaped,” Hutch said, stating the obvious.

“Yeah. Just call me Houdini,” Starsky snorted.

Hutch gave him a weak smile, then stated, “You didn’t come to bed.”

He heard the disappointment in Hutch’s voice. “No.”

“Why not?”

Turning away, Starsky admitted, “Cause I was embarrassed.”

“What’s there to be embarrassed about?”

Starsky swung around to look at him incredulously. “How about me not being able to get it up, so I could fuck you?”

“Well, you could have used your left hand.”

Starsky lowered his eyes and sighed. “I know, but…”

“But you’re too damn stubborn.”

When Starsky glanced at him, Hutch was smiling to let him know he wasn’t really angry.

“I was just so sure I could.”

“Maybe after a couple of days,” Hutch offered sarcastically. “Come on. Let’s make breakfast and head to the station.”

“Do you think we have time for me to… ya know?” Starsky asked, hoping he could make it up to Hutch.

“No, we don’t.” Hutch’s clipped tone told Starsky that his lover was still upset by the events of last night.

As Hutch drove them to the station, they rode in silence, both men still feeling uncomfortable about what took place. Once they arrived, Starsky went straight to his desk, while Hutch got himself a cup of coffee. When asked, Starsky declined a cup, then propped his feet on top of his desk and began to toy with his holstered Baretta while keeping his eyes on his partner.

When Hutch got to his desk, he immediately went to work, typing up their latest report without acknowledging Starsky. After a few more minutes of this, Starsky needed to say something.

“Why don’t you just admit it? You’re ticked off because of what happened last night.”

Hutch glanced at him, then took a sip from his cup. “No, I’m not.”

Starsky cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. He could always tell when the blond was ticked off about something because it showed on his face and in his demeanor. But Hutch continued to pretend everything was okay.

“Starsky, what was the color of that car, the second car in that smashup? Was it red or orange?”

“Neither. It was flamingo,” Starsky replied resolutely.

“Flamingo?”

“Yeah. My mother had a ’47 Studebaker. It was the same color.”

“No kidding.”

“No.”

Starsky eyed him again, still seeing a bit of annoyance, so he decided to ask one more time. “You sure it had nothing to do with last night?”

Hutch responded, “Yeah, I’m sure.” Then he reached into his desk drawer, took out a hardcover book, and threw it at Starsky. “I’ve been meaning to give that to you for some time now.”

Starsky read the title out loud, “Madame Olga’s Self-Help Program to Become Right-handed?” He looked at Hutch, perplexed.

“Starsky, if your best friend can’t tell you, who can?” Hutch ripped the paper from the typewriter, carried it to Dobey’s office, and placed it on his desk. When he returned, he continued to give Starsky an explanation for the book.

“Sooner or later, you’ve got to realize that this whole world was designed for right-handed people. You’re just out of step.”

“I do all right,” Starsky stated, not sounding very confident.

“Aren’t you a little tired of doing just all right?”

Starsky thought about Hutch’s statement. He hated that Hutch might have a point, and now the blond was pissed at him.

“Ya know, Hutch, I knew you were still angry about last night.”

Hutch laid back in his chair and glared at his partner. “You’re right. I am.”

Starsky’s eyes shifted around to see who could hear their conversation, then he leaned towards Hutch, lowering his voice. “It wasn’t like I didn’t try.”

Hutch moved closer to Starsky, whispering, “Yeah, ya did, for the majority of the night. I wasn’t gonna wait till daybreak for you to get there.”

Starsky held up the book. “And this is supposed to fix it. Abracadabra, I read this, and I’ll become magically right-handed.”

Hutch scowled. “You know it doesn’t work like that, Gordo. You have to work at it.”

The two continued to speak in hushed tones.

“What if I want to stay just the way I am? You’ll still love me, right?”

Hutch snorted at the wide-eyed concern on his lover’s face. “Well, that would depend on what kind of love you’re talking about. There’s Eros: Erotic, Passionate Love; Philia: Love of Friends and Equals; Storge: Love of Parents for Children; and Agape: Love of Mankind.”

“I think you know which one I’m talkin’ about, Blondie,” Starsky said, frowning.

Hutch smiled at him, then got up from his desk and strode out of the squad room.

“Hutch. Where ya goin?” Starsky ran after the retreating blond.

Once in the hall, Starsky grabbed Hutch’s arm and spun him around. “Hutch, would you really not love me… like that… any more if I couldn’t be right-handed?”

Hutch noticed that there were a few people in the hall who could easily overhear their conversation. So, he tugged Starsky down the corridor to the men’s restroom. After shoving him inside, Hutch checked all the stalls to make sure they were alone. He pushed Starsky into one, locked it, and backed him against the wall. He grabbed the brunet’s left wrist and held the hand over his head while giving him a bruising kiss. Then he took his partner’s free right hand and placed it on his blossoming erection.

“I want you to jerk me off with this hand,” Hutch commanded in a smooth, seductive voice.

Starsky quickly unbuckled Hutch’s belt, unzipped his fly, reached in, and pulled out the engorged cock. He licked his palm and wrapped his fingers around it, then started pumping.

Hutch closed his eyes and released a soft sigh, which told the brunet that his right hand was doing a good job. He continued until Hutch began to moan loudly, and Starsky prayed that no one would come into the bathroom at that moment.

Since Starsky’s free hand was occupied and the other was being held, he wasn’t able to get any toilet paper to capture Hutch’s semen.

“Babe, I’m gonna need you to get some toilet paper. Otherwise, this could get messy,” he stated, pausing momentarily.

It took a minute for Starsky’s request to register, but once it did, Hutch tore off a few sheets with his free hand and placed them at the head of his penis.

“Okay. Go on. Finish me. Please.”

Hutch was so close. All he needed was a few more strokes, and he’d be there. Soon, that’s exactly what Starsky did, with his blond lover squirting into the wad of toilet paper. Once his balls were depleted, Hutch threw them into the toilet and flushed. He released Starsky’s hand and stuffed himself back into his cords.

Starsky gave him a triumphant grin. He was about to unlock and open the stall when he heard someone coming in. Hutch immediately jumped up on the toilet seat and crouched down, so two sets of feet couldn’t be seen under the stall. Then they both got very quiet. But Starsky needed to see who it was, so he peered through the crack between the door, and he saw Dobey standing at a urinal. He couldn’t help the snort that escaped and immediately covered his mouth, and he received a light smack on the head from Hutch. Dobey glanced back, realizing that someone was in one of the stalls, so he quickly finished his business and left the bathroom.

“All clear,” Starsky announced, opening the door, while Hutch climbed down from the seat and followed his partner out of the stall. “So, how did I do, Blintz?” he asked, flexing the fingers of his right hand.

“Ya did fine.” Hutch smiled, touching lips with his partner.

“Now you believe that I can use my right hand, and I don’t need that stupid book.”

“Well, Starsk, there are still some things that you can’t do,” Hutch stated, moving his eyes to Starsky’s groin.

“I don’t need to jerk myself off when we’re having sex; that’s what you’re there for.” Starsky looked down at himself and saw that he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed their little tryst in the stall. “Speaking of,” Starsky said, pointing to his bulge.

“I suppose you want me to take care of that?” Hutch smirked.

“And you would be correct, sir.”

The detectives went back into the same stall, and as soon as Hutch locked it, Starsky grabbed the blond’s right hand.

“What are you doing?” Hutch asked with bright blue, astonished eyes.

“You’re going to jerk me off using your left hand.” Starsky gripped his partner’s right wrist and raised it over his head. And like Hutch, he pulled some toilet paper off to catch his semen.

Hutch chuckled. “Okay.” And went to work, masturbating the curly-headed man in the same fashion as Starsky did to him. Right away, it felt a little awkward. Hutch was fully capable of doing a number of things with his left hand, but some things were easier to do than others. He didn’t jerk Starsky off that often, so even the act seemed strange, but to Starsky’s surprise and relief, the blond managed to get the job done quickly.

“How was that, Gordo?”

Starsky deposited the soiled paper in the toilet and adjusted his clothes. “Not bad. You’re pretty good with that left hand of yours, but I wonder how you’d do on yourself?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, but we ain’t gonna find out here. By the way, who was it that came into the bathroom?

“Dobey,” Starsky replied, grinning.

“Really? You saw him holding his… ”

Starsky laughed at the look on his partner’s face. “No. He was just standing at the urinal with his back turned.”

“Oh, but that would have been something, huh?” Hutch couldn’t stop himself from joining Starsky’s laughter.

“Yeah. It would have been an image I could never erase from my mind.” Starsky shuddered, then continued. “Come on. I think it’s time we went back before Dobey puts out a missing person alert on us.”

Feeling it might look weird for them both to exit the restroom together, Hutch stayed behind and let Starsky walk out first. Once they arrived back at their desks, Dobey came out of his office.

“It’s about time you two got back. Where the hell were you?”

“Um… I had to go to the bathroom,” Starsky replied, waiting to hear Hutch’s response as Dobey’s gaze shifted to him.

“And what about you? Were you in there with him?”

Both detectives noticed the other officer’s sudden interest in the conversation as they looked up from their desks.

Hutch looked nervously from his captain to his partner. “No Cap’… I was a…”

Starsky saw the anxious look in Hutch’s eyes as he struggled to come up with where he was, so Starsky stepped in.

“Hutch, didn’t you tell me that you needed to talk to Minnie about something?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right. I went to talk to Minnie.” He grinned at Dobey, then gave Starsky a silent ‘thank you’ with his eyes.

Dobey stood for a moment, looking from one of his men to the other, feeling that something was up, but decided to ignore it and get to the matter at hand.

“I need to talk to the both of you, so get your tails in my office now!”

“Yes, sir, Cap’,” Starsky said, standing.

“Be right there, Captain.”

They exchanged looks and knowing smiles before Hutch walked past Starsky, patting his belly as he entered their captain’s office, with the brunet close behind.