DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY PART OF THE STARSKY AND HUTCH FRANCHISE. THE FOLLOWING IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT ONLY.
Author's Note: This story is set after the episode Vendetta. I never realized how close to Christmas the episode aired.( November 27,1976)
I seriously doubt that Hutch's hand would be in any condition for him to be able to play the guitar, but indulge my imagination if you will!
Once I realized the holidays were so close to the episode, I couldn't resist a tree and giving the guys an opportunity to
celebrate with each other.
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CHRISTMAS CHEER
"Hey, you wanna do this?" Starsky stepped back, admiring the tree. He held out the angel to his friend.
Starsky glanced at Hutch who sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch. The blond studied the sparkly lights and old fashioned decorations. He'd unearthed the silver horns, glittery tinsel and hand carved red birds that his grandparents had entrusted to him. It was the first Christmas in a long time that he felt like celebrating.
Hutch picked up the open bottle of beer beside him. He took a long pull of the amber liquid then offered it to his friend, who accepted it but set it back on the table without taking a drink. Still watching his friend, Starsky waited for an answer.
"No, go ahead Starsk, you do the honors."
"But it's from your family, from your grandmother." Starsky reminded his friend as he continued to monitor Hutch's face. It was only a little over a month since his hand was burned due to Artie Solkin's sick act of vengeance and Hutch still had pain. He wasn't able to grip his gun or shoot so they both had opted to do desk duty rather than work alone. This was the last long weekend before Christmas and Starsky had decided to take full advantage of the time off. The best thing was when he'd mentioned a Christmas tree, Hutch readily agreed. Together they'd unpacked a dusty box of ornaments. While his friend unwrapped and explained about each decoration, Starsky had set up the small, live tree.
He kept a close watch on his partner. Starsky was still concerned that Hutch was doing too much with his injured hand. The skin was still an angry red in places and caused a good deal of pain for the blond. The man could be so stubborn sometimes. Shadows underneath the pale eyes would spread into a charcoal smudge, a sure sign that it was time for pain pills. When Hutch accepted them without complaint, Starsky inwardly winced, realizing just how uncomfortable the normally stoic man was.
However, at the moment, the clear blue eyes remained bright and focused, with no deep lines around the mouth. Starsky shut off his pain seeking radar and continued to enjoy the moment with his friend as he stood, offering the angel to Hutch.
Hutch shook his head and as if offering a silent reason, he picked up his guitar which leaned against the couch.
As Hutch began to play, Starsky marveled at the antique lace angel before setting it on top of the tree.
After the angel was secured, Starsky reached for the bottle as he listened to Hutch play. He strummed the instrument quietly, his eyes closed, lost in the melody of an old Christmas carol.
In the middle of the tune, Hutch stopped, flexed his right hand, then plucked at the strings again, continuing where he'd left off. Starsky noticed the wince of frustration on the pale face as Hutch was forced to interrupt the song.
Playing only a moment longer, Hutch stopped again. This time he rubbed at the palm of his hand, flexing it and stretching out the fingers.
"You sure you're supposed to be playing your guitar? Don't ya think it's too soon?" Starsky lowered himself to the floor, opposite Hutch. The bottle sat between them on the coffee table.
"Doc said that actually, it was good therapy. Good to get the fingers moving and would keep the joints mobile. It hurts but he said as long as I didn't over do it…" Hutch began again, playing an unfamiliar piece of music.
Starsky sat a few minutes, drinking from the bottle, but in a fidgety mood. With the music surrounding him, he got up to examine each Christmas card scattered across the piano. Then, he helped himself to a cookie from the box on the kitchen counter. Minnie had baked an assortment of Christmas goodies and presented the brightly decorated box to her two favorite detectives.
Starsky kept up the pretense of examining the decorations and nibbling at the pie that Mrs. Dobey and Rosie had made. While Hutch continued to play, the dark- haired man studied him, looking for signs of tension, frustration and distress. He didn't understand why this year Hutch had given in so easily about a Christmas tree and decorating it. Each season, Starsky would bring up the subject only to have his ideas ignored or receive a lecture about the commercialism of it all, accented with rolled eyes and a frown.
Starsky still felt restless so he moved about the apartment but came back to the coffee table. He reached down for the beer, took a swig and handed it over to Hutch who was in between songs.
The blond set the guitar aside then reached for the bottle. He raised it as a salute to his friend. In response, Starsky raised the cookie in his hand.
"Never thought you'd be so far along with that hand buddy. You've worked hard." Starsky spoke, chewing on the cookie. He picked at a crumb that fell on his shirt, popping it into his mouth.
Starsky had no doubt that Hutch would make a complete recovery. Simply put, his friend hated any negativity. He worked through the painful healing process, accepting the procedures and declining any acts of sympathy. Only Starsky knew how concerned the blond really was. He saw it in the way Hutch stared at his hand, holding it, cradling it when he thought he wasn't being observed. When the doctor said it was important for Hutch to continue to move his fingers, he'd asked whether he'd be able to play the piano or guitar any time soon. The physician was actually very supportive of both as a means to continue therapy, doing something enjoyable as well as practical.
'Couldn't have got this far without ya buddy." Hutch nodded his head then suddenly got up, stretching out his back.
He walked forward, touching the spruce tree, inhaling the pine scent. He gazed at the angel, remembering how his Grandmother had fashioned the delicate decoration. She'd been so careful with the intricate pattern and he still remembered how proud his Grandfather had been the first Christmas they'd put that angel on top of their 6 foot tree.
He absently rubbed at his hand, feeling the scars and uneven pattern there. But he smiled in spite of the damage. He had feeling in the hand and he was able to move his fingers enough to play his guitar. Certainly, this was reason to celebrate.
Still rubbing his hand, he glanced again at the angel on the tree. He wasn't surprised when he felt Starsky near him. He looked over, reached with his still healing hand and placed it over Starsky's.
"You know, this has been the best Christmas I've had in a long time. Thanks for making it so special." Starsky edged away from his friend, giving him a confused look.
"I don't get it. You practically had your hand blown off, you've been through hell with the recovery, ya lost your girlfriend and you suddenly want to celebrate Christmas. I think you've had too many beers." Starsky scratched his head, trying to understand what happened to the real Hutch.
"That's just it. Even though Abby's gone, at least she's safe. Yeah, my hand is a mess, but look at it this way, we both got down time to enjoy because of it!" Hutch chuckled at Starsky's continued confusion. He moved over to the couch and collapsed on the cushions, tired but content. He reached for the beer, took a drink, and put his feet up on the edge of the furniture.
Starsky joined him there, absorbed in the lights on the tree and other decorations around the apartment. Starsky reached for the beer, tipped it in Hutch's direction and took a swallow.
They were surrounded by memories and gifts, evidence of family and friends who loved them. All of the sudden, he knew what Hutch meant.
Christmas is a season of cheer and good wishes. They both had a lot to celebrate. After all, Hutch survived the explosion to his hand. They both had thrived and the friendship between them was stronger than ever.