Work Text:
Bad Reaction
By TLR
Plot: Dinner plans don't go so well for Starsky and Hutch. (Based on an idea a fellow fan suggested in a SnH Facebook group).
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It was supposed to be a surprise. Starsky kept complaining that Hutch didn't cook his homemade pot roasts anymore, and it was one of the few things Hutch cooked that Starsky would actually eat, because the rest of his "special meals" were so health-food, new-age oriented that it clashed with his taste buds.
This was going to be a new Hutch dish.
"But what is it?" Starsky asked on the phone as Hutch busied himself around the kitchen at the cottage. "Can't you give me a hint?"
"Nope. Complete surprise."
"Does it have wheat germs in it?"
"No."
"Disintegrated liver?"
"No."
"Leacherous fins?"
"No. You'll just have to wait. Now I want you to be here for dinner tonight at six sharp. Got it?"
"Got it. Want me to bring the vino or somethin'?"
"No. Just bring your usual hungry self."
"I'll be there."
::
As promised, Starsky showed up at Hutch's that night. Hutch noticed that he was dressed as if going to court, and said, "Why the tie?"
"Special occasion, Blintz. You know I love good food."
"Just have a seat over there, Gordo. It's coming out of the oven now."
"Told you I'd be on time."
Starsky went to the table and sat down, then tucked his napkin into his collar and waited, but did manage to slip out of his corduroy blazer first.
When his stomach growled, Hutch glanced over at him. "Was that you or a bear?"
"Me. I held off eating all day, just for this."
"Good grief. Just pour the wine and light the candles, would you?"
Starsky stayed seated and did as asked, since the wine, glasses, and candles were right there on the table.
Hutch took the casserole dish from the oven and set it on a potholder on the table, then lifted the lid with an oven mitt. A heavenly aroma wafted in the air. The candles were lit and the wine was poured.
"Smells terrific," Starsky said. "What is it?"
"Lobster casserole."
"Never heard of it."
"You have now. I kind of, you know, put the ole Hutchinson touch to it."
"A little of this, a little of that."
Hutch scooped some out onto Starsky's plate and set a basket of yeast rolls near him. "There you go. Enjoy."
Starsky waited until Hutch was seated, but Hutch jumped back up at the last second and ran to the stereo to play a slow jazzy number, then ran back to his seat at the table.
"Now," Hutch said picking up his fork. "Dig in."
Starsky took his first bite, savoring it before swallowing.
"Hey, not bad."
Just as Hutch was about to take his first bite, the phone rang and he jumped up to answer it.
"Oh hi, Captain, how are you? Oh well, Starsky and I just sat down to have some dinner and so we... oh, I see. All right. Well, duty calls I guess. Meet you there."
Hutch hung up and reached for his jacket and gun. "Come on, we gotta go."
Starsky looked at him with a cheek full of food. "Huh? We just sat down to eat. Come on."
"Put the lid on that and we'll eat it when we get back. Dobey said to meet us at Lucky Pawn. There's been a murder."
Starsky looked forlornly at his half-eaten plate. "But it's so good. Can't I take a doggie bag with me?"
"No time, come on."
Starsky wiped his mouth on his napkin, then followed Hutch out.
::
The crime scene analysis was well under way when Starsky and Hutch met up with Captain Dobey. Hutch crouched down to lift back the white sheet. "I've seen him at Huggy's before."
"Lyle Barnett," Dobey told him as the ambulance pulled up.
Hutch looked up at Starsky. "Isn't he the brother of that arms smuggler paroled last month?"
But Starsky wasn't paying much attention. He leaned weakly against the Torino, holding first his head, then his stomach.
"Hutch," he said with a pale face. "I don't feel so good."
Hutch glanced at Dobey, then walked over to where Starsky leaned.
"Starsk? You don't look okay, what's going on?"
"Uhh," Starsky said with a swallow. "Kinda dizzy, I don't know, but... "
When he started to sink like putty, Hutch caught him under the arms and looked at Dobey. "I'm getting him to the hospital."
"Keep me posted."
Hutch moved Starsky to the passenger side, got under the wheel, then peeled rubber moving out.
::
By the time Hutch got him to the hospital, Starsky was having a little difficulty breathing. As Starsky lay in the ER being examined, Hutch paced just outside the doorway. This couldn't be happening. Maybe it was something left over from Professor Jennings' poison last month. Starsky was just now back on his feet, just now getting back into the groove of work.
"Detective Hutchinson?"
It was Dr. Franklin, stepping from the ER to talk to him. Hutch looked at him with worry and concern in his eyes. "Doctor Franklin? What do you think it is?"
Franklin looked down at the paperwork on his clipboard. "What's he had to eat in the last twelve hours? This could be a bad case of food poisoning."
Hutch went as pale as Starsky had been. "I... oh my God. It's... I know what it is. We ate lobster casserole. I mean, I didn't, but he did. It wasn't undercooked. We were called to a crime scene and... " He looked around as if for something to hold on to, then his eyes settled on Franklin again. "Tell me he's going to be all right, that the poison last month didn't make this worse, I... "
Hutch couldn't finish the rest. Starsky was sick because of the "special meal" he'd made.
"If it wasn't undercooked," Franklin said, "Then I'm guessing marine toxins. We're pumping his stomach, giving him respiratory support and medications through IVs. It's serious but he should pull out of it."
Hutch looked down. Franklin said, "I know what you're thinking, and no, we don't know if his poisoning from last month has caused this severe of a reaction, but it could mean a longer recovery period than normal. He'll be back on his feet soon enough."
For now, Hutch had to nod. It wasn't the best news ever. Starsky was seriously ill. But it looked like he would pull through.
"You can see him soon," Franklin said.
The doctor went back into the ER to tend to Starsky again. That's when Captain Dobey came walking down the hall.
Hutch relayed the information, then Dobey saw the look on his face and said, "Hutch, these things happen."
"Not on my watch. I should've..."
"You'll feel better when you see him."
::
Starsky was pale and quiet in the hospital bed when Hutch was able to go see him later.
"Hey, Blintz," Starsky said faintly as he reached for Hutch's hand.
"Hey yourself," Hutch said quietly. "Not such a special meal after all, was it? I didn't mean for this to happen."
"I know. It was a kinda welcome back thing from me being sick from the compound. Maybe let me do the cookin' next time, huh? How does a lasagna dinner sound? Italian bread and chocolate mousse for dessert?"
Hutch shook his head in exasperation and fondness. "I can't believe it. You're ailing with food poisoning and have an Italian meal on your mind."
::
When Starsky was released from the hospital a couple of days later, Hutch made an extra effort to treat him with kid gloves--doing the driving, helping him in and out of the car, opening doors for him and making sure he had a place to sit down, bringing him drinks--until Starsky said, "Hutch, that's enough."
"What's enough?"
"Babysitting me. I'm okay now. You gotta let this baby bird fly out of the nest."
They settled into a booth at Huggy's. "Yeah, yeah," Hutch sighed. "It's just... " He didn't finish. Starsky didn't like soapy scenes.
Starsky reached across the table and patted his hand. "It's okay, Blondie. It's still Me and Thee. Now go put us some songs on the jukebox, will ya?"
end