CHAPTER ELEVEN

Hutch was sleeping when a loud pounding at the front door awakened him with a start. Slipping out of bed, he hurried to the door before the noise woke up Vanessa. He was startled when he opened the door and found Starsky standing on his doorstep. The brunet looked like he'd been in a barroom brawl. His clothes were dirty and his tee shirt was torn. His hands were cut and there was scrape on his left cheek along with dried blood in his dark curls from a fresh cut over his right eye.

"What happened to you?" Hutch asked, reaching out to help an obviously unsteady Starsky into the apartment.

"Wreaked my car…" Starsky slurred, obviously drunk. "Remembered that you lived around here…" He sank down on the sofa with a wince of pain.

"You shouldn't have drinking and driving." Hutch scolded him. "Let me check you out. Do you need to go to a hospital?"

"No hospital!" Starsky said sharply, in a firm, determined voice. "You do it. Okay?"

"Stay put. I'll be right back." Hutch stood up and hurried into the bathroom to get some warm water and medical supplies. When he returned to the tiny living room, Starsky had his head leaned back against the sofa with his eyes closed, snoring softly. He hated to disturb the intoxicated brunet but he needed to check out his injuries. "Come on, buddy." he said "Let me see where you're hurt."

Starsky aroused himself enough to let Hutch pull off his ripped tee shirt, exposing his muscular, well defined chest with it's swirl of soft curls. Other than a few minor cuts on his side and one shoulder, his torso seemed fine. There was a dark bruise forming on his chest where he had probably hit the steering wheel when he wreaked but other than a wince of pain when Hutch palpated the area with his fingers, he didn't seem to have any broken bones in his chest or any trouble breathing. His hands had several small cuts, probably from broken glass but none of them seemed too serious. The scrape on his cheek needed cleaned and the cut on his forehead had stopped bleeding. It was deep but Hutch was confident he could close it with a butterfly bandage. All in all, Starsky was one lucky man. It could have been a lot worse.

Starsky hissed softly as Hutch began to clean his various injuries, washing them with warm, soapy water first, then disinfecting them. Most of them he left uncovered except for a couple of deeper cuts that he covered with a Band-Aid. As he worked, Hutch checked Starsky's reflexes and vital signs. They seemed a little sluggish but he felt certain that was from the alcohol and not his injuries.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Hutch asked as he worked, his hands quick and gentle.

"Don't know…" Starsky slurred, struggling to focus his attention on one of the big blond instead of three. "Woke up and my car was smashed up…"

"Where at?"

"Twenty-second and Lexington." Starsky told him, naming an intersection just three blocks away.

"So why were you driving when you'd been drinking?" Hutch demanded, trying not to sound too harsh but disappointed that his friend could be so careless.

"Wasn't driving." Starsky denied "Carrie was…too much to drink. She said she'd drive…"

"Who's Carrie?"

"My date…" he grinned crookedly "Had a good time till I passed out."

"Where did Carrie get too?"

"Don't know. She wasn't there when I woke up. Guess she went home."

Hutch frowned, feeling angry at the irresponsibility of a woman who would cause an accident and then disappear, leaving an intoxicated Starsky behind to take the blame. Finished with his first aid, he gently lifted the brunet's legs up onto the sofa. "Get some sleep. We can talk about it in the morning." Hutch told him, smiling as the brunet immediately stretched out and closed his eyes with one arm cradled behind his head.

Hutch straightened up to find a very angry Vanessa standing in the bedroom doorway glaring at him. "What the hell is he doing here?" she demanded

"He had a little accident." Hutch said calmly. "I think he's okay, he just needs to sleep it off."

"Then he should have the courtesy to do it at his own apartment and not here!" Vanessa hissed. "I want him out of here!"

"He'll leave in the morning." Hutch said firmly. "He's in no condition to go anywhere right now."

"Oh, I forgot…Saint Hutch to the rescue." Vanessa sneered. "Either he's gone in the morning or I am."

"Don't threaten me, Van." Hutch said, narrowing his eyes, his voice turning cold and deceptively calm. "Cause right now…you're the one who'd lose. Not me."

Vanessa turned and went back into the bedroom, slamming the door loudly. A moment later, Hutch heard the soft click of the lock being turned. "Fuck…" he muttered under his breath as he walked back into the living room. With Starsky asleep on the sofa, the only place left for the big blond to sleep since Van had locked him out of the bedroom was in the recliner. His back would pay for it in the morning but he was too tired to care.

Vanessa's screeching voice awoke him the next morning with a start. He bolted to his feet, his heart pounding with a surge of adrenaline. "GET YOUR DRUNKEN ASS UP AND GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" she was screaming at an equally disoriented Starsky, who sat up on the sofa and looked at her blearily.

Van was in rare form but she made a mistake when she reached for the hung-over brunet's arm. Starsky sprang to his feet and slapped her hand away, his sapphire eyes blazing with anger. "What the fuck is your problem, lady? You don't have to scream!"

"I WANT YOU THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Vanessa yelled, glaring at Starsky maliciously.

"Shut up, Vanessa!" Hutch said firmly without raising his own voice. "Starsky doesn't have to leave if he doesn't want to! This is still my apartment!"

"Really?" Vanessa said, turning her anger on Hutch. "I thought this was our apartment, lover."

"It's my apartment." Hutch repeated, his own temper flaring. "And you will not be rude to my friends."

"Fine. Then you can sleep with your friend instead of me. I'm leaving!" Vanessa declared.

"Go ahead." Hutch said "I really don't give a damn anymore."

Vanessa disappeared back into the bedroom with another loud slamming of the door. Hutch looked at Starsky sheepishly, who looked back with an amused smile on his face.

"Looks like you just lost your lady because of me." Starsky said ruefully.

"Believe me, buddy…it wasn't that much of a loss." Hutch told him. "I think you probably just did me a big favor."

"What am I doing here anyway?"

"Don't you remember?"

"Not a whole lot. The last thing I remember my date was driving me home."

"Well, apparently your date wreaked your car and then took off and left you there."

"She wreaked my car?" Starsky said, his eyes widening in alarm. "Oh, man…I just bought that baby. It's not even paid off yet."

"Yeah, well maybe she didn't mess it up that bad. You said last night that it happened at twenty-second and Lexington but it's probably been towed somewhere by now."

"Shit! They'll suspend my license for leaving the scene of an accident." Starsky said glumly. "And I just got it back!"

"Maybe they won't go so hard on you if you can prove your date was driving."

Hutch suggested.

"Fuck, I don't even know her last name or where she lives." Starsky said with a sigh.

"Then you may be fucked, pal." Hutch said dryly

"Yeah, and I didn't even get off on it." Starsky quipped.

Hutch laughed and impulsively reached out to ruffle Starsky's thick curls. "Maybe next time you'll get lucky. Just make sure you find out her last name and where she lives first."