Every twist and turn that the Torino made, caused by none other than the dark-haired detective, resulted in Hutch's stomach flip-flopping, threatening to send every bit of his lunch back up onto the seat of Starsky's prized car. Something that the blonde would never be able to live down. If Hutch wouldn't have agreed to eat lunch where Starsky chose (which was now not a good choice on Hutch's part), the threat of having to puke all over his lap and seat wouldn't be a problem.

Agreeing to whatever Starsky wanted to eat was never going to happen again unless Hutch was going to keel over from lack of nutrition. If Hutch would have eaten something for breakfast that day like he normally does, he wouldn't have eaten lunch at all, ESPECIALLY where Starsky wanted. He had woken up late that morning and was finishing up getting dressed as he hobbled down the stairs to catch a ride with Starsky to the precinct. When the tall detective simply commented about the hunger starting to pick at his stomach, Starsky had been quick to pipe up and suggest a place. If he hadn't been so hungry, Hutch would've passed on the offer, but in that moment of weakness, he agreed.

"Starsk, ya got any snacks in the car that haven't been shoved under the seat for a month and forgotten about?" Hutch asked, quickly glancing at the dark-haired detective.

"I would say yes, but on our last stakeout, you ate them all. The wrappers are still in the backseat if you don't believe me." Starsky told him, gesturing to the backseat with his thumb.

Hutch didn't need the evidence. That was a long night, and the blonde could very clearly remember eating almost every snack Starsky kept stashed in the car. The few that were left, Starsky ate. "Well, would you mind stopping somewhere I can eat? I didn't get the chance to eat breakfast and I'm starving."

The way Starsky's eyes lit up reminded Hutch of a child on Christmas morning, and he wondered if he made a mistake. "There's this great place I know. It's only about five minutes from here. You'll love it." Starsky told Hutch, glancing over at him.

If Starsky told Hutch he would love it, most of the time Hutch decided against whatever it was. But right now, he was starving, and he would give anything a try. "Yeah, sure whatever you say." The blonde detective nodded his head.

Starsky grinned from ear to ear. "You'll love it. You'll love it." He reassured his partner.

Hutch now knew that he, in fact, didn't love it. In fact, he wouldn't eat there if it was the last source of food on earth. The grease dripping off it and onto his hand was enough to make Hutch's head spin, but the smell didn't help either. But Hutch ate it because it was likely that he wouldn't eat again till late that night or even the next morning, depending on if he felt the urge to make himself something once, he got off duty and back home.

Hutch felt like he would have to drink the healthiest thing possible to cleanse his body of that garbage. The sight of Starsky digging into his own food sent shivers down the tall man's spine. It made him wonder how the curly-haired detective could eat things like that. To Hutch, his body was a temple and he felt like he just littered all over it.

"Starsk, can you keep the sharp turns to a minimum? We know you love showing off your car, but the turns are unnecessary." Hutch grumbled, one hand resting lightly on his stomach. The blonde cop often criticized Starsky's driving, but it felt even more necessary now that he was trying to be considerate and not upchuck what Starsky called food onto the nice upholstery.

Starsky took a quick look over at his partner and instantly saw the look of discomfort written all over his face. "Sorry pal," he said simply. "Your stomach giving ya issues?" He asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes, it is giving me issues. What you consider food is threatening to come up all over your car." Hutch told him with a nod of his head.

"Don't you dare puke in my car!" Starsky was quick to say. Sure, he cared about his partner, but if it was something that would be solved just by throwing up, Starsky cared more about keeping his car clean. The sidewalk could always handle some stomach contents, not like it hadn't seen worse things.

"Thanks for the concern, pal." Hutch groaned a bit as the Torino hit a fairly large pothole. "If we were in my car, I'd be more concerned about you than the upholstery." He told Starsky.

"Yeah, because your upholstery is already junk, so it wouldn't matter either way." The dark-haired man grumbled.

"Excuse me?" Hutch asked, glancing at his partner with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing." Starsky quickly answered, rubbing his hand over his mouth a bit.

"Mmmhmm. Well either way can you ease up on your driving?" Hutch asked again. "I'm trying to be at least a little considerate of your precious car."

"I appreciate that pal." Starsky grinned, then nodded his head. "Just for you, I'll slow down." He told him. He expected that they'd be called for a chase before the day was over, so he hoped his partner's stomach would hold on.