By
Jennifer Lynn
“You know somethin’, Starsk? - No, what, Blintz.” Hutch smiled at himself in the bathroom mirror. His voice sounded fine but he’d have to work on mimicking his partners. It’s bad enough that you have to listen to him all day, now you’ve got yourself holding conversations with him when he isn’t even here. Blintzes…maybe I could whip up some of those instead. Humming a tune to a new song he learned recently, his thoughts wondered.
“Naw, to much trouble. I’ll save that for another time.” Hutch finished washing his hands and started to dry them off when the expected knock sounded at the door. One last finger combing of the fine blond hair and he was ready to greet Starsky.
As he got to the door, it opened and his partner waltzed in. “Hey, ya! All ready to go?” Starsky smiled and gave Hutch the once over. “You look nice in that jacket. That new?” he asked, closing the door behind him.
“No,” Hutch said turning around and heading for the living area. “I got mine same time you got yours. Don’t you remember?” Plopping down on the couch, he gave his partner a ‘come over here’ look and patted the cushions. Softly, he began humming to himself again.
“Aren’t we goin’ yet? You promised something special since it’s Thanksgiving. I thought we were goin’ some place nice for once.” Starsky came over to the couch but didn’t sit down. He placed his hands stubbornly on hips.
“I’ve changed our plans.” Came the confident reply. Hum, hum.
“No way!” Starsky started gesturing with his hands now. “Come on Hutch. We did great today, gettin’ that guy to spill his guts over killing that couple. Plus the holiday, I want something...”
Hutch cut him off. “Look, here’s the deal.” He shifted his sitting position so he could face Starsky who was still standing and looking very put out by Hutch’s attitude. “What’s the weather like outside?”
Starsky glanced towards the window. “Wet and windy, but that’s no reason…”
“And what did we do today?”
“Got a confession from a bad guy.” Starsky had no idea where this was going.
“And what time is it?”
“Ten fifty-five, pm.” Patience was starting to wear thin in his voice.
“And are you hungry?”
“Of course!” Accompanied by a stomach growling.
“Exactly!” And Hutch began humming that tune again, smug at his own brilliance.
Starsky wasn’t sure how to reply. So he picked up on what was most annoying to him at that moment. “And what is that humming you’ve been doin’ all day? I can’t stand much more of that.” Feeling as if he wasn’t going to win this one, he finally sat down on the couch next to his partner.
Hutch however, got up and headed towards the kitchen feeling like his point was finally going to be revealed.
“I mean,” Starsky started. “You said to dress nice, so I though it was for something special.”
“Oh, it is.” Hutch answered opening up the refrigerator. Thinking again, he closed it and turned around. “Remember when I visited Lisa last week?”
He got a small headshake from the man sitting on the couch. Hutch had to suppress a smile at the absolutely dejected way in which his partner could act. “Well, she taught me a song. That’s what I’ve been humming all day. It’s a song that really got me thinking.”
“Ya?” The head looked up. “What about?”
Hutch walked over to Starsky and pulled him up onto his feet. “You.” He looked right into the eyes looking back at him, keeping physical contact by holding onto Starsky’s forearms.
“Sing it to me?” Starsky asked, almost shyly.
Not breaking the eye contact, Hutch began the song, singing it slowly and softly. “Albuquerque, he’s my turkey and he’s feathered and he’s fine.” Hutch moved one large hand up to Starsky’s left shoulder, massaging there as he continued singing in his soft drawl, “Albuquerque, he’s my turkey and I’m awfully glad he’s mine.” Slight smile.
“Albuquerque, he’s my turkey, he’s so cozy in m… his bed,” a pause and a sigh, “because for Thanksgiving dinner we ate scrambled eggs instead!” Hutch had to laugh unable to keep up the serious tone any longer. The spell was broken.
“You’re the turkey!” Starsky complained, playfully throwing a couch pillow at the retreating and giggling Hutch.
“But you made me promise, about the eggs I mean. Remember?” Hutch said, happy at his joke. However, he was serious with it’s meaning. Opening up the refrigerator once again, he got the eggs out.
“Yep, I did partner, point made, scrambled eggs it is,” Starsky agreed strolling up behind Hutch to give him a helping hand. Maybe this mid-night Thanksgiving, at-home meal would be special after all, as long as they were together.
So they both settled down to make their own kind of Thanksgiving feast and to give thanks for their current state of good heath.