Work Text:
Hutch couldn’t decide if what he’d just seen warranted shock, outrage or self-induced insanity.
His partner – his stomach roiled now at that label – finished tucking the bed sheet around himself, then just sat there looking a little chagrined.
After a brittle moment Starsky reached out a hand. “Talk to me, ba-”
“Don’t call me that! Not now! Not after what I’ve just seen!” Hutch snarled.
“Look, we can talk this out. We’ll just all sit down and -”
“How can talking about this make it any less… less…” Hutch waved his arms at the crime scene. “What the motherfucking goddamn hell were the two of you thinking?!”
"Don’t curse, Ken.” Hutch’s mother chided as she came out of the bathroom, tying Starsky’s blue bathrobe around herself.