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It was a Sunday, and Starsky hummed, running upstairs to Hutch's apartment. If Hutch was in a good mood maybe he could coax Hutch into going to the cinema for the newest James Bond movie, 'the spy who loved me'. Besides, Hutch owed him one for not taking that ride on the roller coaster at Six Flags Magic Mountain last week. Starsky had to ride it all by himself. Wasn't fun when Hutch wasn't sitting next to him. It's just not meant to be. Hutch had to ride shotgun; car, roller-coaster, carousel, train or otherwise!
Starsky knocked on the door and entered Hutch's apartment. "Hey, Hutch. Good Mornin!" he yelled.
"It's almost noon, besides, what's so good about it?" Hutch sounded annoyed. "Are you trying to bring down the house, yelling like that? I'm trying to decide on something here."
Great! Now Starsky'd never get Hutch to take him to the Bond movie.
There were all sorts of catalogs and newspaper articles strewn all over the coffee table. "You are gonna buy pots and pan?" Starsky asked while going through various magazines.
Hutch didn't reply.
"Did you really go through all of your plates and stuff?" Starsky chuckled. "Man! You need one of 'em anger management classes."
"What?" Hutch asked.
"Your dinnerware —you've smashed all of them, right? I mean… that's why you need a new set? You have hauled all your stuff across the apartment, onto the walls—" Starsky walked up to a wall in the living room and made an act of examining it. "Yup. 'S what I thought." He traced his fingers along the surface. "At the rate you get mad around here, would be a miracle if anythin's left."
"You stay out of this!" Hutch snarled.
Starsky wondered whether it was steam, smoke or vaporized porcelain smog that was rising around Hutch's head. "Okay, okay." Starsky raised his hands as a sign of surrender. "I'm just sayin'."
As Hutch was in no mood for jokes, Starsky came around and sat on the couch, next to Hutch, putting his arm around Hutch's shoulder. "So what are we looking at here? Flat-giraffe?" Starsky picked up a catalog.
"That's Pfaltzgraff. Will you go mind your own business?" Hutch grabbed the magazine from Starsky and threw it back on the coffee table. "Please!"
"What's so much to think about? I know exactly what you are gonna choose."
Hutch stared at Starsky. Obviously he wanted to skin Starsky alive.
Ignoring all the threatening looks that was coming from the other side, Starsky grinned, happily. "You are gonna pick up a set that's off-white, or something that has a light brown, dark brown, or orangish-colored pattern."
"I can't believe this," Hutch muttered under his breath. "How the hell did you know that?"
Starsky's grin widened. "However—" he started. "I don't think that's the problem."
"No." Hutch shook his head. "The problem is… I can't select what type I should buy. No matter what it is—" Hutch paused for a while. "Did you know that almost all these things have lead?"
"Led to what?"
"Not led to anythjing. I meant lead. The heavy metal kind-- lead. L-E-A-D. This is insane. Lead is extremely toxic and all of this-" Hutch waved his hand at the catalogs. "All of this have lead."
"The magazines?"
Hutch glared at Starsky. "Not the magazines, moron. The dinnerware."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! It says right here." Hutch pointed at a newspaper article. "They have lead, cadmium and—"
"Don't you think they burn these things enough so that everything gets stuck together and don’t get into what you eat?"
"Not according to these publications. If they use the correct temperatures, yes. But doesn’t seem like that's the case."
Starsky leaned closer to Hutch. "Wasn't that you who told me that I shouldn't believe everything I read?"
"Get away from me." Hutch pushed Starsky away. "What I have here are scientifically proven stuff."
"Ah! So just because a bunch of scientists say something you believe all of it?" Starsky asked. "How'd you know that the competitors of Flatgiraffe's paid-off the scientists to say this stuff?"
"No one's saying Flatgiraffe's—" Hutch clamped his mouth shut up and grit his teeth "No one's saying Pfaltzgraff's dinnerware has lead in it. The article doesn’t specify any brand."
Why Hutch over-thought every single little detail to no end… Starsky never understood. And he didn't want to understand, either. All in all, one thing was for sure. There won't be a chance in hell to drag Hutch to a movie today. Starsky had to be content watching re-runs of Streets of San Francisco on TV.
"So… what kind of potting material has lead in it?" asked Starsky.
"They are not called potting material," Hutch snapped.
"Then what? Pottery material?"
"No-- Yes. Maybe. Kind of."
"You are a very confused person, Hutch. You need'ta get your life under control."
"I don’t give a damn about what they are called. It's all ceramic stuff. The problem is with the decorations and glazes that are used."
"Okay, okay." Starsky laid his palm on Hutch's back. "Calm down now, will ya. It isn't the end of the world. We'll find you the best stuff—even if that means turning the whole world upside down and shaking it until all the pots and pans fall off."
***
Starsky came strolling into the squad room on Monday morning, all smiles and whistling. He had a bag in his hand, which he shoved into his desk drawer. "Mornin'."
Not meeting his eyes directly Hutch greeted him back.
"Are you still upset over what happened yesterday?" Starsky asked.
"No." Hutch went on writing his reports of the week before.
"You sure?"
"Yes!"
Starsky opened the drawer and took something out of it. "I got somethin' for you."
Hutch eyed the book in Starsky's hand suspiciously. Was this pay back for giving Starsky the book about how to be right-handed? "What's it?"
Starsky pushed the book towards Hutch.
"How to make your own Tableware?" Hutch took a deep breath and glared at his partner.
"Yes! I figured you'll never settle on anything that's out there, so… this is what I'd do to help."
"I found what I was looking for. Thank you very much." Hutch slid the book back to Starsky. "You can do it yourself."
"Really? You found healthy plates?"
"Yes. I'm going to buy a glass set. That will solve the problem."
Starsky suddenly looked alarmed, and very upset. "You sure you're doing the right thing?"
"Of course! That's the safest option. There's no lead in it and all what I have to do is be careful."
"Yes… but." Starsky scratched his head. "That's not very safe. Glass break easily." He bent over and grabbed another book out of his bag, and eyed Hutch carefully. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
"Don't I know it?"
"So… we are in everything together, right?" Starsky asked.
"Right!" What was this all about now, Hutch wondered, typing up the last bit of his report.
"So… don't you think you have somethin' to tell me?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Hutch looked up from his work. I have nothing to say to you. Other than asking you to shut the hell up."
"Shhh! Calm down. You shouldn't be mad… in your condition."
"My condition?"
"Yes! It took me a while to realize what was going on." Starsky looked dead serious. "Then it all came together. Your mood swings. You getting mad. Being overly conscious about what you eat and even what you eat from."
Starsky had come into some kind of a conclusion and Hutch didn't like the sound of it. Sighing deeply, Hutch mentally prepared himself to listen to Starsky's logic.
"You had skipped breakfast the past couple of days. You weren't eating well. Not sleeping well."
"What are you getting at?" Hutch got impatient. "Just out with it."
"Listen," Starsky looked around and leaned closer to Hutch. "This is the best thing that has happened to us," he said, lowering his voice. "It'd be you and me and… him or her. You know. It's gonna be great. I'm tellin' ya."
"Him or her? What the hell are you talking about?"
"The baby. You are pregnant."
"The what?"
Starsky stood up, walked over to Hutch and stood beside him. He placed the other book in front of Hutch. "Here. Read this and just calm down. I was at the library yesterday, and it is a possibility. But… we have to talk about it. It's not gonna be safe for you, but there are ways to--"
"Starsky!" Hutch had had enough. He wanted to smash his fist against Starsky's face, but then… he only had to look at his partner's eyes. There was something in them that Hutch had never seen before. Starsky was serious, and happy beyond reason. Most importantly Starsky looked like a man in love.
"Buddy," Hutch lowered his voice. "I'm, not pregnant. But if you want a kid, we can look into adopting one, ok?" Hutch smiled and read the title of the book. Bringing up a Baby Together. "I'm going to read this and keep it with me, until we get a baby, for real."
"Yeah?" Starsky grinned ear to ear. "But are you sure you aren’t pregnant?"
"Yes. I'm sure. I wish I could have a baby for you, though." Hutch meant it whole heartedly.
"Yeah?" Starsky's voice was all soft and tender, his eyes becoming extra bright.
"And I can't think of a better person to bring up a baby together with." Hutch couldn’t believe what he was promising Starsky, but… somewhere in his mind he felt this is something that would happen in the future, for sure. They were going to live happily ever after.
***