This story is not slash, which is surprising coming from me...

I was going for funny, hopefully it worked. :)

Please review :)

"That guy's long gone, Blintz. Man, didya see what he was wearing?" Starsky asked in amazement as he walked over to his partner.

Their perp, some random dude who had nicked a lady's purse was long gone. After scuffling with Hutch in the alley way he had escaped, but only after using what Starsky could only describe as a more 'feral' defense on his partner.

"Damn it!" Hutch fumed from his seat on the dust covered alleyway. "Next year, when Halloween comes around I am taking a vacation!"

Starsky did his best to control his laughter, but he couldn't help the smirk that sneaked through.

"Com' on, Hutch, it isn't that big of a deal," he tried to comfort. Starsky reached his hand out to help his friend, but Hutch scowled in return and batted it away.

"At least you didn't have an audience," Starsky added with a snicker.

"Don't laugh at me!" Hutch accused with a finger pointed high. Making it to his feet, he wiped at his jeans in an effort to clear the dust from his tan corduroys, but the movement only caused the dust to cloud around him. "I am serious. I am done with this shit."

Starsky rolled his eyes and took a step back to avoid the dust that was emanating from his partner's movements.

"Since when can I run faster than you?" Hutch accused, his unhappy tone implying that Starsky must have fallen behind on purpose. Starsky shrugged and Hutch opened his mouth to continue, but the dust finally made its way to his nostrils and he collapsed into a series of sneezes.

When the dust settled and his partner's sneezing fit came to an end, Starsky considered his partner.

Hutch looked… rough. His face blotchy and red from anger. His flannel shirt was torn, jeans still covered in dirt, and a disgruntled scowl was firm on his face.

Starsky smirked. Hutch was a mess, but he was also taking the situation way too seriously. He was fine and his injuries were minor—well—mostly minor. Although, Starsky wasn't so sure his pride would be the same.

"Hutch, ya better be careful how long you keep that look on your face," Starsky teased, a glimmer of laughter in his eyes.

"Why?" Hutch asked repulsed, his scowl deepening.

"Because," Starsky informed," it just might stick that way."

"Oh, STUFF IT!" Hutch growled and marched to the waiting Torino.

With Hutch's back turned, Starsky gave into silent laughter as he made his way back to his car.

Hutch was seated in the passage side, his arms crossed, and scowl still on his face. He looked like a spoiled child. Starsky rolled his eyes and grabbed his aviator sunglasses out of his windbreaker pocket.

What a great start to the day.

They drove in silence for a few blocks before Starsky decided he'd had enough of his partner's pouting.

"Hey, Hutch," he tried. "Whaddya say we stop for lunch in a bit. My treat, I'll even go somewhere you can get that tuna ya like."

But Hutch hadn't been listening, and he only caught the last part of Starsky's peace offering.

"What the fuck does tuna have to with anything?" Hutch demanded loudly as he slammed his palm on the Torino's door. Starsky cringed.

"Hey, don't hit the car. She didn't do nothing' to you," Starsky scolded. Pissed off or not, Hutch still wasn't allowed to hurt his baby.

"Christ," Hutch mumbled. He re-crossed his arms and slouched down in the bucket seat, trying to find a more comfortable angle for his aching backside.

"Um, lunch, Hutch," Starsky clarified, sneaking a quick glance at the blonde through the corner of his eyes. Deciding that it was safe enough to continue he added, "you like tuna and I thought we could go to that great place where the—"

"How can you think of lunch at a time like this?"

"I'm hungry," Starsky shrugged. "'Sides, I was only tryin' to cheer you up."

"I don't need cheering up. I need a new career!"

"Oh, terrific," Starsky mumbled. His shoulders slumped, and it was his turn to scowl. So today was going to be one of those days, and the morning had started out so good.

Hutch's bad days, Starsky could handle. The days when his blonde partner woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Days when he was crabby and ready for an argument.

Starsky could deal with that, because those kind of days started out bad. He knew the warning signs and what to do to coax Hutch out of it. Besides, bad days like that happen to everyone.

But days like these, where something happened that irritated Hutch on such a deep level that he became a ball of fury—and a pain in the ass to deal with—were the worst.

Nothing helped, and Starsky often became a target for Hutch to focus all his anger and resentment on. Not that Starsky took it personally or anything, because he didn't, he just hated the feeling of walking on eggshells.

Giving on any conducive conversation or saying anything that could rectify his partner's mood, Starsky kept quiet and flicked the Torino's left blinker.

Startled by the change in their direction Hutch turned his attention to his partner. "Where are we going?" he demanded.

"We are going to memorial," Starsky said calmly.

"Why on earth would we do that?" Hutch asked nervously.

"Because you need to get… checked out," Starsky smirked. Hutch's horrific mood or not, the situation was still damn funny.

"No, no I don't," Hutch shook his head adamantly. There was no way he was going to the hospital,

"Yes, yes you are." Starsky answered calmly, as if he were speaking to a small child.

"Starsky… I'm okay. Just a little bruised from the fall, but nothing to worry about," Hutch tried to sound superior, but found himself wondering how much of the altercation with the punk in the street his partner actually saw.

"Hutch," Starsky snorted, giving into his laughter completely forgetting about Hutch's mood.

Hutch closed his eyes, shit, he was never going to live this one down.

"I'm fine, Starsk," Hutch bellowed, and Starsky giggled deeply. He actually giggled, and that was when Hutch knew he had seen the whole damn thing.

"Hutch, you need to get cleaned up and probably a rabies shot. Shit, you might even need a tetanus shot," Starsky advised, recovering from his giggles.

"TETANUS!? I didn't step on a rusty nail!"

"No," Starsky grinned. "But you did get bit on the butt by that werewolf wannabe."

"Damn it, Starsky—"

"Don't blame me," Starsky laughed. "I'm not the one who bit you."

Hutch bit his lower lip and glared at his partner. Starsky was grinning ear to ear.

"This conversation stays here," Hutch whispered authoritatively. "And if you ever bring it up again, I swear to you..."

"Come on, Hutch, it's not that big a deal," Starsky grinned.

"To you! To YOU!" Hutch exploded, he thrust his index finger in the face of his driving partner.

Starsky shook his head, grasped Hutch by his wrist and calmly moved his partner's hand away from his body.

"To everyone," Starsky assured, masking his own annoyance over the situation. "And you won't die from embarrassment, I promise you that. Besides, you don't want to get that bite to get infected…"

Sighing deeply, Hutch hated to admit that his partner was right. Having to deal with an infected bite wound on later date would be infinitely more embarrassing than having to get it cleaned up today. But maybe there was another way.

"Hey, Starsky," Hutch asked quietly. "You don't supposed you would…"

Starsky looked at him, his mouth agape, already knowing what his partner was suggesting.

"Oh, no. No, no, no," Starsky shook his head violently. "I love ya, Hutch and I would take a bullet for you, but ain't no way I am looking at your butt."

"Fine," Hutch muttered, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. He shouldn't have even asked.

Neither man spoke for the rest of the ride to the hospital. Starsky still grinning in humor and Hutch too mortified to say anything. However, as soon as they parked, Starsky popped his door open and broke the silence.

"Man, I love Halloween," Starsky chuckled.

"I hate Halloween," Hutch groaned.