Title: Boys Wonder
Author: Paula Wilshe
Type: Gen
Summary: Back wrenched, drenched and tired after a dive off the Santa Monica Pier, the guys chat about caped crusaders as they try to relax enough o fall asleep.
Format: Story
Category: PWP
Rating: G
Size: 5K
Date Added: 2002-11-18
Boys Wonder
by Paula Wilshe
David Michael Starsky sat on the floor, trying to find a position which was comfortable, and didn't make the pain in his back any worse. He had long since given up on the couch and the bed as possibilities, there didn't seem to be any reconciling the persistent ache which had now begun to spread upward from his lower back.
The situation was exacerbated by the fact that he was just plain exhausted, and he rubbed burning eyes, and yawned as deeply as he could without moving the lower regions of his body. He discovered this to be impossible. Two days on stakeout in a cramped nondescript car, followed by a two mile foot pursuit, and a (successful) flying tackle off the Santa Monica pier were responsible for this agony, and he leaned forward slightly, pressing water-pickled fingers against his sandpapery eyes.
Hutch had not fared too much better, he reflected, although he's been spared the agony of the foot chase, being instead, the one to call for backup, and maneuver the car across the entrance to the pier, in an effort to keep the general public away from what could be a potentially dangerous collar.
"How you doing?" came Hutch's quiet voice from the bathroom doorway.
"I'll live," Starsky answered, a small smile almost immediately replaced with a jaw-cracking yawn. "How about you? Salt water out of your ears yet?"
Hutch chuckled at that, drying at his hair with the fluffy dark blue towel, then draping it around his neck as he moved into the room. "Squeaky clean," he tilted his head toward his partner. "See?"
Starsky buried his face in his hands and yawned again. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "it's not that you're boring or anything."
"Well, I..." Hutch yawned in sympathy. "You've got to stop that," he said firmly. "If you keep it up, I won't be able to drive home."
"So stay," Starsky shrugged. "You shouldn't be driving, you're as tired as I am."
Hutch ran a hand through his damp hair. "Yeah, maybe," he agreed. "How's the back?"
"Not bad," Starsky lied, then, looking up at his partner's interrogatory eyes, smiled, embarrassed. "Hurts like a sonofabitch," he admitted.
"I figured," Hutch answered. "You really twisted when you flew off the dock."
Starsky blinked, and nodded tiredly. "Yeah," he allowed. "Hey, thanks for comin' in after me," he said.
"What else was I supposed to do?" Hutch teased. "Flying through the air like Batman..."
"Hutch."
"What?"
"Batman doesn't fly."
"Oh." Hutch rubbed at a waterlogged ear. "He doesn't?"
"Uh uh," Starsky said, on another yawn.
"Oh. Well... you were flying through the air like... like... whoever flies..."
"Whom," Starsky corrected. "Whomever flies."
"Fine," Hutch threw up his hands. "You want some dinner?"
"Superman."
"What?"
"Superman flies." Starsky's eyes were beginning to droop. "I wish I could just..."
All concern, Hutch rubbed a shoulder lightly. "Can't get comfortable, huh?"
Starsky shook his head. "But I'm so tired, I think I can fall asleep just like this," he said sheepishly. Yawning again, he finished with, "Can't keep my eyes open..."
"Hey, Superman," Hutch ruffled the dark curls.
"What?"
"Did you take the aspirin I left out?"
"Mm hm."
Hutch stretched out his long legs, propping his head up on an arm. "Scoot over here, and turn on your side."
"I don't think I can..."
"Yes you can," Hutch said. He reached behind him, to the couch, dragging off several pillows. "Lay on your side, up against me. That'll support your back."
"Aw, Hutch," Starsky protested half-heartedly. "You need sleep too."
Hutch snorted. "Like I'm gonna sleep with you moaning and groaning on the floor. Come on," he patted the floor in front of him. "Get over here."
"Okay," Starsky sighed, carefully maneuvering his way closer.
Hutch tucked a pillow under his partner's head, and one under his own. He slid an arm around Starsky, drawing him gently closer. "How's that?" he asked quietly.
"Better," Starsky answered, surprised. "You found the one position that doesn't hurt."
"Good. Close your eyes."
"Can't sleep now," Starsky yawned into the pillow. "I'm wide awake."
"Yeah, yeah," Hutch patted his arm gently.
"Hey?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"No problem."
"And uh..."
"What?"
"...Night..."
Hutch rested his forehead against Starsky's warm upper back. "Night, Starsk," he murmured.
The End
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