DIES NON

by Ellis Murdock

21 January 2002

This was written for entertainment purposes only and is not meant to infringe in any way upon the rights of the legal owners of Starsky and Hutch.

"Could've gone to the park."

"Could've." Hutch stretched lazily under the foliage, close enough to Starsky to feel his breath warm against a cheek. "Could've gone to the beach."

"It's off-season." Starsky raised up just enough to take another sip of his beer, then sank back down onto the shared blanket. "Huggy's would've been okay. Could've played pool."

"Yeah. That was out for the same reason we didn't want to go to the game."

"Oh." Starsky twisted his head just enough to get a better look at his partner, while Hutch did the same. "And why—" Smiling, he reached out and brushed a finger so lightly against Hutch's lips that the sensation registered only as the most engaging of tickles. "Mustard. Why was that again?"

"People. Remember? That's the goal today. Absolutely no contact with any people. Any kind, for any reason."

"Oh." For a brief moment, silence overshadowed all else. "You know something? There's a fundamental flaw built into your plan."

"What's that?"

"I'm a people."

"You don't count."

"Hey!"

"No," Hutch explained quickly. "I mean you're exempt."

"Well, in that case, hand me another grape."

Their eyes locked for a moment before Hutch said, very slowly, "You realize that means raising up?"

"Yup."

"You also realize that you're closer?"

"I'm exempt."

Hutch chuckled both at the comment and the smug expression, reached into the hamper, and dropped a still-wet grape cluster onto his partner's chest. "You're something."

"Thanks. I like this, though. Why didn't we ever do it before?"

"Dunno. Guess it was an idea borne of the current set of circumstances."

Starsky munched noisily on the fruit and seemed to consider for a moment. "Y' mean a day off after working fifteen straight? Over every holiday on the calendar?" He reached up, separated a bit of Ficus leaf from its brethren…and got his fingers slapped, albeit playfully.

"Don't do that. How would you like it if someone came up to you and began pinching off parts?"

Starsky laughed. "Kinda depend on which parts and by whom. Anyway, I'm the guy who made it all festive--it owes me one." Rolling the leaf between his fingers until it turned into a minuscule, damp ball, he asked, "You think anyone'll find us here?"

"No." Hutch began counting reasons off on his fingers. "The Torino's still at your place, I parked around the corner, and we told everyone we'd be somewhere else. I don't see how…this is the last place anyone would look."

"'S' good." He nudged Hutch's foot lightly with his own and almost glowed with satisfaction as it became the opening salvo in an extended bid for leg superiority. When the laughter had died down, he conceded, "Okay, I'll give it to you--can't think of anywhere I'd rather be. What happens when it gets dark, though?"

"That's a loaded question but, if you mean 'what do we do for light?', I brought a Coleman lamp and some candles."

Starsky stared in utter disbelief, then caved into curiosity, and began sifting through the contents of the picnic hamper, chuckling periodically as he encountered some of the more bizarre items Hutch had tossed in. "Where did you--? There's enough food in here for a week!"

Hutch smiled, but didn't move. "No, just enough to get us through tonight and tomorrow morning."

Starsky swirled round to face his partner. "We're camping? You didn't tell me we were camping." His face conveyed surprise, but not a trace of the apprehension normally front and center whenever confronted with the prospect of a leafy adventure.

"You didn't ask."

Starsky shrugged, stretched, and finally settled back with his arms folded behind his head. "I can live with that. This might—might--even force me to reconsider my views on staying in the great outdoors."

"Communing with nature."

"Exactly."

"Hmm." A brief glimmer of guilt washed over Hutch, vaguely reminding him of the day when, at six years of age and fed up with domestic bliss, he'd packed a knapsack full of essentials, and run away under the living room table. That experience had ended both abruptly and unhappily when he'd run ran out of cookies. Upon further reflection, though, ensconcing themselves in the greenhouse in what amounted to a brief sabbatical from life seemed a plan without drawbacks. He sighed contentedly, smiled at his dozing partner, and tugged at a nearby curl.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Hand me a grape."

finis

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