By: Karen B

Summary: HUTCH ANGST OVER A PAPER CUT!!! Challenge by Mara on Me and Thee, Feb. 13th 2007

Note: Not beta read.

Disclaim: Non profit dreaming. I do not own the rights to Starsky and Hutch. Only own my dreams.

Rated: Silly humor. Parody. Some H/C Hutch.

The bent figure of an unshaven blond detective huddled over his typewriter, tapping on the keys with immense concentration. He was surrounded by several empty cups of coffee, three broken pencils, and several crumpled pieces of paper lying on the floor at his feet.

He finally lifted his head and looked at the clock. It'd been three hours since he started these reports, and this one was finally the last. Hutch looked across at his sleeping partner. How Starsky could sleep sitting upright in a chair was beyond him.

Their captain suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Aren't you done with those reports yet?" he bellowed. "Why are you two still here? It's late."

Hutch, brave man that he was let a slow smile spread across his face. "I'm done, Captain," he announced proudly.

He pulled his sheet of paper from the roll of the typewriter with flourish, but all too quickly his smile faded, as the paper slipped from his hands and fluttered to the floor.

"Owe. Owe. Owe." Hutch stood, staggering to his feel and reeling around the room in pain, until he fell to the tile and remained in the dark shadows of a corner. "Owe. Owe. Owe. It hurts. It hurts."

Awakened by his partner's cries, Starsky jolted immediately to his side. "Hutch. What happened?" he frantically asked, pulling Hutch within the circle of his arms.

"Stupid. I didn't see it coming. Owe. Oh, Starsk," he moaned in uncontrolled hysteria.

"What? What is it, buddy?"

"P-paper cut," Hutch said, nodding toward his thumb.

Starsky's eyes went wide with raw fear. "My God!" He blinked back the tears. "You're sure?"

Hutch's eyes met his partner's. "I'm sure."

Starsky frowned, gently pulling Hutch's hand toward him. Probing the area, he quickly saw the bleeding slice between the lines of his partner's thumb.

"Shit. Shit." Starsky turned to his superior, and between sobs spoke, "This is bad, Cap. Going to hurt for days. He's going to hit this spot on everything insight, and it will take forever to heal. Could even get infected. I need peroxide now!" Starsky violently wailed.

"No. No, anything but peroxide, that will burn. The pain will be like a knife boring through me. I can't. Can't take it, Starsk." Hutch shook, his head lolling to one side.

"Hutch! Stay with me." Hutch's eyelids fluttered. Starsky put a hand under Hutch's chin and tipped his face upward. He didn't like the unhealthy look of his skin. "C'mon, babe, I know you can do this."

"Oh, Starskā€¦" This time Hutch raised his eyes to Starsky. "If I hadn't been typing that damn report. If we only had a computer and 31/2 inch floppies, we wouldn't be in this mess. It's all my fault. If only our government would stop cutting down trees for their pulp to make--" the thought ended on a sob.

Starsky held Hutch tighter reassuring him with soft words, but not wanting to lie to him. The realization of what this wound meant clouded his vision, but he held strong.

"Damn it, Hutch! This looks deep, probably going to get infected."

"No peroxide, Starsk, pl-please." There was a quiver in Hutch's voice.

Starsky closed his eyes. "Whatever you want, partner. We'll figure something out. You hold on. You hear me? I won't stand for anything less."

Dobey squared his shoulders and bravely stepped in deciding someone needed to take charge of the difficult situation. Starsky was too emotionally close, and Hutch was fading fast.

"I want this area sealed off." Dobey pointed a stern finger at a few policeman standing nearby. "No peroxide gets in or out of here. Not no way. Not no how. I don't want that stuff anywhere near this man. Understood? Now move!" he signaled with a wave of his hand.

The sound of rambling voices and stampeding feet filled the squad room.

"Starsky, clean up that blood for God's sake," Dobey ordered, reaching into his breast pocket and producing a handkerchief.

Feeling like a moron for not thinking of it sooner, Starsky took the handkerchief his Captain handed him, and wrapped it tightly around Hutch's thumb applying heavy pressure.

At the touch, Hutch gasped, his whole body going stiff with pain.

"Breathe, buddy." Hutch shuddered taking in a breath. "That's it."


"I got you, partner. I'm not going anywhere."

"Owe. Owe. F...cking hurts."

"I know. I know Easy. Easy. All right?" Starsky grimaced feeling his partner's pain.

"Starsk, I can't."

Starsky smoothed a lock of blond hair away from Hutch's sweaty brow. His frustration mounting, he glanced over his shoulder and yelled, "I need some help here!" Turning back to his Captain with pleading eyes he asked, "Captain, please, can't you do something?"

Hutch began to groan and mumble incoherently, shivering with cold and misery. "Starsk." Hutch trembled.

Dobey ran his fingers through his thick hair. What could he do? In moments Hutchinson would be another causality. It wouldn't be the first time he'd lost a good man to the paper tiger, by hell he knew it wouldn't be the last. He hadn't felt this powerless since his youngest child, Rosie fell off her bike and skinned her knee. The blood was all over her new dress, and the only thing that could stop her tears was...

Suddenly, Dobey was hit with a brain storm of an idea. It could just possibly work. Could just save this fine young detectives life. At this point -- anything was worth the shot.

"Somebody get this man a band-aid!" He bellowed, glancing expectantly around the room.

One of the officers, a young rookie by the name of Johnson P. Gamble, burst forward gladly handing Starsky the life-saving dressing.

Dobey looked on hopefully at the two. Starsky silently urging Hutch on as he applied the bandage. "You're okay. Going to make it." Starsky pressed his lips against Hutch's hair.

"Now all we can do is wait," Dobey said, walking over to the piece of paper on the ground, he bent over, guardedly picked it up, and threw it in the trash.

The end


Pulp and paper accounts for approximately 40 of deforestation worldwide
The world has lost nearly 200 million hectares of tree cover;