This is a Starsky/Hutch story I wrote in 2004.
Rating is PG (a rarity for me.)
This story is set during the Easter Holidays.
(a Starsky/Hutch Easter Story)
by Starskenopolous (AKA: Ursula Angstrom)
"Aren't you Jewish?" Milt Jaffe grumbled.
"Yep!" Starsky replied with a bright smile on his face.
That cop--the one with the curly hair--was hiding Easter eggs in the Dobey's yard. And it looked like he had one of those headbands with white Easter Bunny rabbit ears jammed in his dark curls.
Gladys, Milt's wife, laughed when she saw him; Starsky was carrying a multi-colored Easter basket full of bright plastic eggs. He took his time--hiding the eggs in clever places--so Rosie Dobey would spend a long time in the yard searching for all those Easter treasures.
Starsky ignored Milt and kept on hiding eggs. Jaffe was a boorish old coot, but his wife was sweet. Starsky winked at Gladys mischievously and hid a chocolate Easter bunny in a box under the hood of Dobey's barbecue grill. Gladys giggled when he said, "Barbecued hasenpfeffer! Yum! Yum!"
"It's bad luck to eat rabbit on Easter," Milt grumbled, the perplexed scowl still on his face.
Starsky shrugged and said, "Can't eat ham either. Guess I'll have chicken."
"Why can't you people eat pork?" Milt asked as he watched Starsky hide another plastic egg under the forsythia bush.
"Moses said we couldn't when God invented ventriloquism."
"David!" Gladys gasped. Then she laughed. Starsky's humor was as contagious as it was outrageous.
"Made you see it, didn't I?" Starsky teased; laughing heartily as Gladys Jaffe blushed to the roots of her gray hair and nodded bashfully.
Starsky smiled and laughed again unrepentantly.
Gladys couldn't get the mental image of Moses sitting on God's knee with the Almighty's hand up the back of his white robe making him talk to the audience.
"Only YOU would imagine Moses delivering the Ten Commandments as a vaudeville act, David."
Eyes sparkling with irreverent glee, Starsky said, "That's why so many Biblical prophets carried shepherd's hooks, Gladys. Where do you think entertainers got that idea of giving actors the hook and draggin' them off stage when the crowd started to boo? Ever try to catch a running sheep with one of those things? You can't!"
"How would you know?" a familiar voice sassed, laughing as he strolled into the Dobey's backyard.
Starsky looked up as soon as he heard his partner's dulcet voice--and the bunny ears tumbled off right off his head.
Resplendent in a white suit, white tie, white shoes, Ken Hutchinson looked like an angel backlit by heavenly sunlight as he stood next to Edith's forsythia bush. Hutch's smile was so radiant, he also looked like a male model who had just finished a photo shoot for a toothpaste ad.
Impressed and aroused, all Starsky could do was gawk at Hutch because the blond looked so dazzlingly beautiful dressed in that outfit.
"You spent one day on a dairy farm, Starsk. There were no sheep in Uncle Bob's barns. That was a runaway pig you tried to catch, partner."
"I missed and landed face first in a mud puddle," Starsky confessed comically.
Gladys had no trouble imagining that! David Michael Starsky was the quintessential City Kid. She had no doubt that Starsky felt like he'd landed on an alien planet the day he was wandering around that farm.
"Pigs go 'Oink!' Sheep go 'Baaah' …" Hutch teased as he picked up Starsky's Bunny ears and hopped them back onto his friend's curly head.
"And cows go 'Mooo!' "Starsky lowed, as he impishly slapped Hutch on the ass. Then he handed Hutch the Easter Basket and said, "Get moving, Hop-A-Long. We've got eggs to hide."
Starsky jammed the bunny ears headband onto Hutch's bright hair as the blond laughed. Then he yanked them off again.
"Indian giver!" Hutch sulked.
"They look better on me," Starsky rationalized as they busily went about their play like mischievous bumblebees.
"What you need is a pair of angel wings, Ken. You look like Gabriel in that outfit."
"Gabriel!" Starsky scoffed; snorting as he thought of Gabe Kaplan. Laughing he said, "Nah! Those are his John Travolta threads, Gladys."
Gladys chuckled and said, "I'm going to tell your rabbi on you, David!"
"We don't know any rabbis," Milt Jaffe harrumphed as he stalked back into the house to read the Sunday paper. Starsky didn't bother wondering who'd pissed in Milt's Cheerios. A curmudgeon's idea of bliss was to remain perpetually grumpy.
Gladys laughed as she watched Ken pretend to dance like he was in a disco as David hummed the theme to the television show Welcome Back Kotter while they hid more Easter eggs.
Hutchinson can't dance worth a dmn, Milt thought as he watched the blond cop cavort in the Dobey's yard. Still wondering why a Jew would be so comfortable with the idea of playing the Easter Bunny, Milt Jaffe couldn't help but wonder if the rabbits were chosen as the official Easter animal because rabbit was spelled like rabbi with a 't'… After all the apostles DID refer to Jesus as 'Rabbi' several times in The New Testament…
Nimble Ken Hutchinson was not--especially when he was wearing dress shoes that were slick on the bottom. Starsky howled with laughter when Hutch tried to do some fancy footwork and lost his balance in the grass. As usual, the big blond klutz tripped over his own feet when he tried to show off and he landed flat on his ass in one of Edith's flowerbeds.
Gladys rushed over to help, but Starsky had already pulled Hutch to his feet and gave his partner a hug by the time she skidded to a halt beside them.
"At least you didn't land in the rose bush," Starsky chortled.
"Oh dear, what a horrible grass stain. You're going to have to take that suit to the dry cleaners right away!" Gladys fretted.
"Damn," Hutch sighed as he looked over his shoulder and tried to assess the damage.
"How bad is it Starsk?"
"Brings a whole new meaning to the saying: Your Ass Is Grass, partner."
"Take your suit to Liu's first thing tomorrow morning. Liu got motor oil out of my favorite Persian rug when Milt tracked it up last Fall. I'm sure he'll be able to help you," Gladys said as she bent down arthritically and started picking up eggs with difficulty.
Most of the plastic eggs went splat in the same area of the spongy grass, but lots of them went flying when Hutch tumbled. Several of the plastic eggs broke open on impact, scattering candy coins on the lawn like pirate treasure.
"Can't trust Viking pirates with any kind of coins," Starsky teased. "Even candy coins."
"Raider!" Starsky sassed as they gently intercepted Gladys and gallantly told her that they could pick up all the lost eggs themselves.
"We can get the eggs, Gladys. We have plenty of time," Hutch reassured her. "The Dobey's are dropping by a nursing home to visit Edith's aunt on their way home from church. We'll get all the eggs hidden before they get back."
"Stand aside, ma'am. We're the Easter Bunny's official deputies. You can't touch these eggs without a warrant," Starsky comically rambled.
Gladys didn't cease and desist until he made her laugh.
Chuckling, Hutch said, "How many Resse's Cups have you eaten today, Starsk?"
Starsky was WAY too fond of those creamy chocolate-covered peanut butter candies.
"That explains why you've been so sassy. You're on a sugar high," Gladys said.
"Not yet. But I will be after I eat my chocolate bunny." Smiling at Hutch adorably, Starsky told Gladys, "Hutch left my bunny in the Torino."
Charmed by their affectionate banter, Gladys watched Ken blush as Starsky looked up at him with childlike wonder and devotion.
Those two could tune the world out when they smiled at each other. The love that glowed in their eyes was as warm and majestic as sunshine on ocean waves. Gladys suddenly felt like an intruder so she left saying, "I'll be your lookout and holler when I see them coming."
"You're looking the wrong way," Starsky whispered naughtily when Gladys was out of earshot.
Starsky grinned at his partner unrepentantly and shrugged. "What? You look gorgeous in that suit, Hutch. Even covered with grass stains I get hard just lookin' atcha."
"So I noticed," Hutch giggled, admiring the bulge in Starsky's jeans.
It flattered him that Starsky found him so desirable.
"What's your excuse?" Starsky sassed. He wasn't dressed up in his Sunday best clothes. He was just wearing an old pair of jeans, his favorite denim shirt and his sneakers.
"I've got a thing for Playboy bunnies," Hutch teased as he wiggled one of the ears sprouting from Starsky's curls.
Hutch didn't have to caress Starsky's cheek with his fingers to make his partner melt. Those warm, loving blue eyes made him feel as gooey as a Cadbury crème egg inside.
"You're my favorite boy toy and you're my favorite playmate. Hurry up and hide the rest of those eggs, E.B. I've got plans for your furry tail. You're going to fry up some Easter eggs for me wearing nothing but your new bunny ears."
Laughing, Starsky said, "If I do that you'll have to go to confession again."
"I'd rather eat Peeps in bed with you."
Starsky chuckled like a satyr.
He'd woke Hutch up this morning whispering, "Peep!" "Peep-Peep!" "Peep…Peep…PEEP!" as he hopped a marshmallow Peep candy up his partners flat naked belly while Hutch tried to sleep.
The only time Starsky woke up before Hutch was on holidays or when he had insomnia. Holidays gave Starsky insomnia because he was an overgrown kid who still got excited anticipating The Big Day. If Hutch wanted to get any sleep on Christmas Eve he had to get Starsky drunk on eggnog or spike his partner's punch with a tranquilizer.
Candy seemed to be associated with all of Starsky's favorite holidays: Halloween, Valentine's Day, Christmas and Easter. Gladys Jaffe's theory about Starsky being on a sugar high during the holidays could explain a lot. Because the first thing Hutch saw when he opened his eyes this morning was a sticky yellow marshmallow fluff that was shaped like a floating duck. It had a beak and brown Picasso-esque eyes painted on its face. Starsky's hand made the Peep hop off his chest and peck him on the lips with its beak while he made kissing sound effect noises.
Hutch laughed when Starsky made the Peep fly all over his face pecking him with the marshmallow beak kisses while Starsky made smooching noises that sounded like a cartoon motorboat putting down an imaginary river.
Hutch laughed uproariously when Starsky decided to perch the Peep on his left nipple and make it pop a wheelie while he crowed like a rooster heralding the arrival of dawn.
Starsky crowed so loud he woke up the yappy little Pekinese dog that lived in the apartment downstairs. Mrs. Chen, the woman who owned Peaches, was legally deaf. Peaches was always barking at something--and Mrs. Chen always smiled at them like they were naughty little boys she adored with all her heart. Starsky insisted that Mrs. Chen was cool. But she made Hutch blush every time she smiled at them with that sly I Know What You've Been Doing Up There grin. She'd giggle every time Hutch reacted self-consciously and Starsky would tell him he was being paranoid.
"Then why do I keep having this feeling that she can hear--and record--every sound we make when she turns up that hearing aid full blast?" Hutch complained.
"And you think I have an overactive imagination," Starsky scoffed.
Starsky looked so incredulous when he made statements like, Hutch wondered if he might be losing his mind.
When Starsky began floating the little Peep in the imaginary pond of Hutch's inordinately large belly button, Hutch smacked the back of his hand and whispered, "STOP!" as loud as he could so no one but Starsky would hear him.
Hutch's wild imaginings about Mrs. Chen had become a joke that had taken on a life of it's own. As soon as Peaches barked at them, Hutch started rambling like he was paranoid again.
"Did you hear that?" Hutch whispered, looking around the bedroom like they were being watched.
"Hear what?' Starsky's husky chuckle made his washboard abs spasm convulsively.
"It sounded like static."
"Those were you brain waves."
"My brain waves aren't audible."
"They are when your synapses backfire."
"Brain farts?" Hutch scoffed.
"You said it, I didn't," Starsky giggled.
"My thoughts are NOT flatulent."
"They are if you're gonna start saying all that shit about Mrs. Chen being some kind of a Secret Agent of The Sex Maniacs From Mars Society or somethin'."
"This apartment is bugged, Starsky!"
"The only bug in my treehouse is the big blond bedbug I'm sleepin' with."
Eyes sparkling with glee Hutch pinched Starsky.
"Ow! Why'd you pinch me?"
"Bed bugs bite."
"Only because I let you."
The smug smile on Hutch's face was just too cute. So Starsky let Hutch nip his earlobe too.
"You KNOW she's listening," Hutch whispered impishly.
Starsky laughed raucously. "You are such a Fruit Loop."
"I am not!" Hutch said, pretending to take umbrage at the endearment. "How do you know there is not a listening device hidden inside that hearing aid case, Starsky? It's not like we haven't used similar devices when we're on surveillance details. The CIA is coming up with clever shit that all the time."
"True. But I hardly think a widow living on social security could afford the latest techno-gadgets like that, Hutch."
"She doesn't look like she's 80 years old, Starsky."
"Asian women seldom do if they are in good health as they age. Mrs. Chen eats more tofu than you do. It hurts me just to watch her do yoga. One of these days she's going to touch her ear with her heel and something's going to rip. Then she's going to look like a one-legged Chinese stork in a kimono."
"STOP!" Hutch pleaded. "My dreams are weird enough already."
"The last thing I need is to have a dream about Mrs. Chen delivering our baby. I'm still freaking out over that weird dream about her showing her friends videos of us making out on her crystal ball when they came over to play mah jongg last Thursday."
So Hutch plucked the Peep out of Starsky's fingers and ate it whole.
It's not hard to gulp Peeps. The marshmallow fluff starts to dissolve on contact as soon as it hits your tongue.
"Where's the rest of them?" Hutch asked with a devious smile on his face.
Together, they ate the whole flock of Peeps in that box while they kissed and cuddled and teased each other this morning.
Remembering Starsky's oblique reference to cowboy hero Hop-A-Long Cassidy, Hutch smiled and said, "If you make me breakfast dressed in nothing but your bunny ears, I'll dress up in full cowboy regalia and let you peel me out of it in the stable."
Starsky's face was wreathed in naughty smiles as they finished hiding the Easter eggs.
"I like how you fantasize, Wrangler."
"They're coming! They're coming!" Gladys shouted, like Paul Revere warning them about approaching redcoats.
"They ain't the only ones," Starsky sassed as Hutch draped his arm around his partner's shoulder as he laughed.
They felt like they were in a three-legged race as they tried to hurry to the Jaffe's house with raging erections.
But they yanked open the screen door and ran though the side door of the Jaffe's house just in time. They found a great hiding place on the landing at the top of the stairs that led to the Jaffe's basement just as Dobey's car appeared on the street near their home.
Nestling his body against Starsky's from behind, Hutch impishly blew on Starsky's curls like they were the fuzz on a chocolate dandelion. Then he snuggled against his partner's luscious muscular body so he could see Rosie Dobey's reaction when she saw all the eggs in the yard.
Eyes wide with amazement, Rosie scampered out of the back seat of Dobey's Thunderbird as fast as her dainty little legs could carry her. Clapping her hands as she jumped up and down in a paroxysm of glee, Rosie shouted, "The Easter Bunny was here! The Easter Bunny was here!"
Astonished and delighted, Rosie picked up one of the empty baskets they'd left on the stairs by the front door and said, "He must have came while we were at church!"
There were four baskets outside the Dobey's yellow house. An empty basket for Rosie to use while she went hunting for Easter eggs, a basket full of snacks wrapped in cellophane for the Captain, a basket full of gorgeous spring flowers for Edith, and a basket full of coin tokens for the local arcade for Cal.
"Take your bag of tokens out of there and help me hunt for eggs, Cal."
"I'm too old to hunt for eggs, Rosie."
"No you're not!" Rosie insisted.
Dobey and Edith laughed as the Captain said, "Humor your sister, son."
That's all the permission Cal needed. His big macho dad told him it was okay for him to act like a kid.
"Our boy is growing up," Dobey said, as he draped a loving arm around Edith's shoulders.
"But Starsky and Hutch will always be kids at heart," Edith whispered affectionately as she hugged her husband. "I can't believe they did all this while we were at church."
Dobey chuckled. "Starsky went overboard as usual."
"I wonder where those two scamps are hiding?" Edith murmured. Neither the Torino or Hutch's latest jalopy was parked on their street.
Detective Harold Dobey kissed his wife's cheek and pointed to the side door of the Jaffe's house when the children weren't looking. Edith laughed when she saw them watching Cal and Rosie hunt eggs. Hutch was nuzzling Starsky's curls with his cheek; their hair mingling together like sunlight and midnight.
Hutch had slipped one arm around Starsky and laced his fingers through David's fingers. The fingertips of his other hand were trying in vain to slide into the side pocket of Starsky's jeans, but the denim clung to Starsky's body so tenaciously he wasn't able to do it.
"You're going to break your knuckles," Starsky warned him. The knuckles behind Hutch's nails already felt sprained.
Smiling, Starsky captured Hutch's roaming hand and brought that one to his lips so he could kiss it before he pressed his lover's hand against the furry exposed skin of his belly. "Quit feelin' me up and pretend you're a big blond koala bear, Sir Gropes A-Lot. I need a hug."
Always happy to hug his favorite teddy bear, Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky's lean waist and played with the tiny curls he could tease through today's shirt that was open almost to Starsky's navel.
They cuddled like that until Rosie and Cal found all the eggs and went inside with their parents.
Then they went up the short set of stairs to their left and into the Jaffe's kitchen. They wished Gladys and Milt "Happy Easter", then they snuck out their front door and walked three blocks over to retrieve their cars.
Starsky had thrown a clean sweatshirt he took out of his gym bag over his chocolate bunny. It was still safe in the box. The sweatshirt and the shade from the tree had kept the sun from melting his candy. Holding up the box triumphantly, Starsky moved it back and forth in his hand so it looked like the bunny was dancing. To the tune of How Much Is That Doggie In The Window? Starsky began to sing: "Hutch left my bunny in the Torino…"
And they drove home thinking up new verses for that tune. The words didn't quite match the melody--but neither of them cared. They spent Easter snuggling like love bunnies should.